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The  Big  Show 

My  Six  Months  With  The 
American  Expeditionary  Forces 


By 
Elsie  Janis 


Cosmopolitan  Book  Corporation 


New  York 


MCMXIX 


Copyright.  1010,  by 
COSMOPOLITAN  BOOK  CORPORATION 


All  rights  reserved,  including  that  of  translation 
into  foreign  languages,  including  the  Scandinavian 


PRINTED   IN    n  B.A 


Bebttatton 

To  the  A.E.F.,  with  all  my  love, 

I  dedicate  this  book, 
And  hope  if  they  ever  read  it, 

They  will  smile  with  me  and  look 
Back  OK  the  ''good  timies"  over  there, 

And  think  only  of  the  day 
When  after  their  work  was  done  I  cwne 

And  then  toe  would  start  to  play. 
Oh;  it  was  fun,  wasn't  it,  "  fellahs  "f 

I'll  say  it  was  "  soms  swell  guerre," 
For  I  lost  my  heart  to  each  one  of  ymi 

In  the  big  show  "  Over  There." 

Elsie  Janis. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER 

I  1918 — We  Leave  for  France 

II  BoNsom,  GoTHAs!  .... 

III  Birth  of  Big  Bertha  . 

IV  TouL.     The  American  Front   . 
V  Neuilly  and  Our  Boys 

VI     We  Join  the  A.  E.  F.  and  Meet  the 
Boss  OF  Same     .... 

Vn  We  Give  Provins  and  the  Bearded 

OxezeBeeg*'Ha!  Ha!" 

VIII  Forbidden  Fronts 

IX  The  British  Front 

X  Following  the  Hurrying  Huns 

XI  The  a.  E.  F.  in  England     . 

XII  Home  Again!  ..... 


1 
13 
25 
56 
79 

97 

117 
132 
154 
176 
193 
211 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACINO 
TAOm 


A  Very  Smart  Little  French  Trench  .  .  Frontispiece 
A  Crowd  of  Regular  Guys  at  Johns  Hopkins  Hospital — 

Bazoilles            20 

There  Was  Lots  of  Home  Talent  in  "  The  Big  Show  "  .  52 
"Poor  Minne  Letourrr!    Look  at  Her  Now  and  Before 

the  Yanks   Came!" 100 

At  Verdun 132 

I  Gave  the  Show  on  a  Couple  of  Tables  in  Front  ©f 

Headquarters 190 

A  Jazz  Band  of  Chocolate  Hue 206 

On  Shipboard 222 


INTRODUCTION 

IN  April,  1914,  I  made  my  first  appearance  in 
England  at  the  Palace  Theater,  London.    The 
British  public  opened  its  arms  to  me,  and  I 
crept  in  with  a  joyous  heart.     I  made  many  dear 
friends  and  was  thoroughly  happy. 

In  August  the  great  blow  fell  upon  the  world. 
Suddenly  England  was  at  war.  The  theaters  still 
went  on,  people  stood  the  shock  wonderfully,  and 
in  a  few  days  one  hundred  thousand  of  England's 
best  had  been  spirited  away  and  were  landed  in 
France — while  we  were  still  wondering  when  they 
would  go !  About  ten  per  cent  of  my  friends  went 
with  them,  some  never  to  return,  but  to  make  his- 
tory and  cover  themselves  with  glory  that  can  never 
be  forgotten. 

It  was  not  surprising  that,  arriving  home  in 
America  in  October,  1914,  with  "  Tipperary  "  ring- 
ing in  my  ears  and  visions  of  hundreds  of  brave 
men  singing  as  they  marched  away,  I  should  have 
been  a  bit  disappointed  in  the  neutral  attitude  of 
most  of  my  friends.  Having  seen  the  Americans,  as 
I  have,  in  France  since  then,  I  don't  believe  they 
know  the  meaning  of  the  word  "  neutral."  They 
were  not  that — they  were  loyal. 

ix 


X  INTRODUCTION 

Their  President  said  be  neutral,  and  they  were — 
loyal  to  him. 

After  three  months  in  America  we  sailed  again 
for  England — January  30,  1915 — on  the  Lusitania, 
the  time  when  the  submarine  lay  in  wait  for  her, 
and  that  wonderful  man  Captain  Paddy  Dow  set 
us  out  in  the  middle  of  a  hurricane  until  dawn  and 
then  came  in  flying  the  American  flag.  Exit  subs, 
in  consternation  and  some  speed. 

I  played  again  at  the  Palace,  and  now  began 
my  first  real  taste  of  war.  The  wounded  were  com- 
ing home  in  thousands;  the  camps  were  full;  and 
I  spent  every  spare  moment  I  had,  and  some  I  did 
not  have,  singing  in  hospitals  and  camps.  It  was 
then  I  learned  what  a  little  amusing  story  or  a 
song  can  mean  to  a  man  before  he  goes  into  a  fight 
or  after  he  has  "  got  his." 

In  July,  1915,  my  dear  friend  and  fellow-player 
Basil  Hallam  heard  the  call  of  his  country  more 
than  the  cheers  and  applause  of  the  public,  and  he 
enlisted  or  rather  insisted,  as  he  had  been  turned 
down  as  unfit  several  times. 

I  did  not  want  to  continue  without  him,  so 
again  we  went  to  America.  In  the  meantime  the 
Lusitania  had  been  sunk  and  America  was  growing 
restive  in  spots. 

When  the  next  summer  came  around  I  heard  the 
call  of  the  War  again,  and  instead  of  settling  down 
at  our  home,  Mother  and  I  dashed  over  to  England 


INTRODUCTION  xi 

again.  Dodging  submarines  was  now  becoming  a 
habit.  We  spent  six  weeks  in  London,  during 
which  time  I  did  not  play  at  all,  but  sang  every 
day  and  all  day  to  the  poor  Tommies  who  had  al- 
ready been  at  it  nearly  two  years. 

The  day  that  we  were  sailing  back  home  to  take 
up  my  winter  contracts  in  New  York,  I  received 
word  that  my  dear  friend  Basil  Hallam  had  "  gone 
west,"  as  the  British  call  the  glory  of  dying  for 
their  country. 

I  was  never  really  happy  again  until  April  7, 
1916,  when  America  stepped  in  to  take  her  share 
of  the  burden  and  the  glory  of  the  world.  From 
that  time  on  I  had  but  one  idea,  and  that  was  to 
get  to  France  and  do  for  our  boys  what  I  had  done 
for  the  others — for  I  thought,  if  the  Tommies  liked 
me  in  their  own  land  and  surrounded  by  their  own 
families,  what  would  our  boys  feel,  three  thousand 
miles  away  from  home? 

So  I  started  in  at  home,  recruiting,  playing 
benefits,  and  doing  a  very  "  war-mad  "  act  in  vaude- 
ville, singing  patriotic  songs,  etcetera,  and  telling 
everyone  I  was  going  to  France.  No  one  quite 
believed  it,  and  to  me  it  seemed  almost  too  good 
to  be  true,  but  it  was !  And  when  I  got  there  I  met 
in  every  corner  fellows  who  said,  "  I  saw  you  out 
in  'Frisco  " — or  some  other  place;  "  when  you  said 
you  were  coming  over  here  first,  I  never  thought 
you  would  do  it,  but  by  gosh  I  you  did."     And 


xii  INTRODUCTION 

though  all  the  men  would  place  wreaths  on  my 
brow  and  the  folks  at  home  write  me  how  wonder- 
ful they  think  it  was  my  giving  up  work  and  money 
to  go  over,  I  want  to  say  that  I  deserve  no  credit, 
really.  I  could  not  help  it.  War  had  me  and  still 
has  me,  and  my  life  really  began  when  I  set  my 
foot  or  rather  both  my  feet,  and  Mother's  feet,  in 
France,  for  be  it  understood  that  when  I  say  "  I  " 
it  means  "we"  for  she  was  with  me,  and  a  much 
better  soldier  than  I  was,  as  all  the  men  I  had  the 
honor  of  singing  to  will  testify. 

I  did  not  mean  to  ramble  on  so  in  this  chapter, 
but  I  only  wanted  to  explain  why  I  am  a  "war 
nut"  before  I  started  to  write  about  my  trip.  I 
wanted  people  to  know  why  we  went.  I  know  they 
will  all  understand  why  we  stayed  six  months,  and 
forgot  such  things  as  real  theaters  existed. 

We  were  in  the 

BIG  SHOW! 


THE  BIG  SHOW 

CHAPTER  I 

1918 — We  Leave  for  France 

DIFFERENT  people  have  different  ideas  of 
what  happens  to  us  hereafter  if  we  don't 
behave.  I  have  my  own  theory  on  the 
subject. 

The  guy  who  wobbles  along  the  "  straight  and 
narrow  ''  while  in  our  midst  is  in  the  hereafter 
sentenced  to  one  long  effort  to  get  a  passport  in 
war-time,  it  being  understood  that  the  Kaiser  will 
be  there  teaching  the  devil  Kultur  that  we  could 
not  quite  get  next  to  on  this  earth. 

They  were  very  nice  about  our  passports,  really ; 
but  I  saw  more  of  New  York  than  I  ever  did  before, 
and  I  am  convinced  that  they  hide  the  passport 
bureaus  'way  dow^n  in  the  ankles  of  the  City,  hoping 
that  the  passport  seekers  will  get  so  tired  that  they 
will  miss  the  boat.  We  just  made  ours — the  Es- 
pagne.  As  we  had  crossed  five  times  during  the 
War,  our  friends  all  wore  a  sort  of  "  What — 
again?!"  expression.     They  gave  parties  for  us, 

1 


2  THE  BIG  SHOW 

which  were  rather  more  like  "  wakes,"  and  I  know 
that  while  we  were  dancing,  singing  and  having  a 
wonderful  time  generally  on  that  ship,  at  least 
three  dear  souls  were  praying  for  our  safety — bless 
them!  It  worked.  We  had  a  splendid  trip.  We 
had  all  that  money  I  had  been  collecting  from  Mr. 
Keith's  circuit  to  spend  on  the  trip — so  we  started 
right  in  and  took  the  suite  de  luxe.  A  more 
distingu^  crowd  you  could  not  imagine  on  ship- 
board, and  we  had  that  splendid  assurance  of  dying 
in  good  company. 

Nothing  happened,  outside  of  a  rather  comic  life- 
boat drill,  after  which  I  decided  to  take  the  free- 
dom of  the  seas  rather  than  get  in  a  boat  with  about 
thirty  of  the  feminine  gender,  in  the  midst  of  whom 
I  should  have  had  to  get  up  and  give  my  seat  to  a 
lady,  or  at  least  stroke  the  crew ! 

One  man  appeared  on  deck  with  one  of  those 
wonderful  life-saving  suits  with  everything  but  hot 
and  cold  running  water  in  them.  It  was  marvelous. 
They  advertise  that  it  will  hold  up  eight  people, 
but  somehow  I  would  prefer  not  to  sell  reserved 
seats  for  my  life  preserver  in  case  the  ones  who 
were  being  saved  got  excited  and  forgot  about  the 
one  who  had  paid  the  sixty  dollars — until  they 
saw  bubbles  coming  up  from  where  he  had  been 
before  they  pushed  him  under  in  their  enthusiasm 
over  being  saved. 

We  had  a  wonderful  concert,  and  as  it  was  a 


WE  LEAVE  FOR  FRANCE  3 

French  ship  several  of  the  artistes  sang  in  French. 
I  sang  in  English  and  had  quite  a  success  with 
the  French  people  on  board.  Perhaps  they  did  not 
understand  me.  I  sang  "  Over  There"  and  they  all 
joined  in  the  gestures. 

The  night  before  we  landed,  the  Captain  came 
down  to  dinner  for  the  first  time,  having  stayed 
on  the  bridge  every  night  looking  for  trouble.  He 
made  a  speech,  and  asked  a  charming  French  singer 
to  sing  "  La  Marseillaise."  She  did  so,  beautifully. 
Then  everyone  turned  on  me,  and  asked  for  "  Over 
There."  I  believe  that  the  French  people  think  it 
is  our  National  Anthem.  I  was  glad  they  did  not  ask 
for  the  "  Star-Spangled  Banner,"  for  though  that 
wonderful  song  is  splendid  when  played  by  a  band 
or  sung  by  one  good  voice,  nothing  is  more  pathetic 
than  the  average  crowd  of  Americans  singing  it.  It 
usually  sounds  something  like  this : 

Oh!  say,  can  you  see,  by  the  ja  ba  jum  da — 
La,  da,  da, — la,  da,  da,  etc., 

until  the  finish,  when  they  all  join  in  asking  with 
fervor  if  the  Star-Spangled  Banner  still  waves — 
knowing  very  well  she  is  waving  better  every  day. 

However,  we  all  sang  "  Over  There,"  and  we  all 
meant  it.  I  doubt  if  anyone  was  quite  as  enthusi- 
astic the  next  morning  on  landing,  when  we  really 
found  out  the  meaning  of  the  word  "  rationed." 

Arriving  at  Bordeaux  (such  a  pretty  name!  sug- 


4  THE  BIG  SHOW 

gesting  grapes,  red  wine,  etc.,  and  looking  very 
much  like  Jersey  City  only  more  so)  we  were  a 
little  disappointed.  I,  for  one,  expected  American 
troops  to  be  there  and  decide  whether  we  should 
land  or  not.  The  first  soldiers  we  saw,  however, 
were  German  prisoners,  very  pleased  to  see  us  or 
anything  else  but  the  front  line  trenches.  Two 
Y.M.C.A.  men  were  charming  to  us — and  I  then 
found  out  that  where  there  are  Young  Christians 
there  are  young  Henry  Fords.  We  leapt  into  one 
with  joy,  and  went  to  the  hotel,  where  we  had  break- 
fast with — No  meat,  no  bread  except  of  dusky  hue, 
no  butter,  no  sugar,  no  jam,  no  nothing — and  very 
little  of  that — but  we  were  in  France !  and  I  could 
have  existed  a  week  on  "  joy." 

On  the  way  up  to  Paris  we  saw  our  first  American 
troops,  who  were  busy  putting  in  a  few  miles  of 
railroad  in  a  couple  of  hours — or  at  least  when  you 
see  the  miles  and  miles  of  American  rails  in  France 
you  decide  that  must  be  about  their  speed. 

Paris,  City  of  Night ! 

We  arrived  in  Paris  at  eight-thirty.  I  remember 
thinking  London  in  1916  was  dark,  but  it  was 
Coney  Island  on  Sunday  compared  to  Paris ;  and  to 
add  to  the  gayety  of  our  arrival,  it  was  raining.  I 
suggested  a  taxi  would  be  nice,  to  the  four  porters 
who  were  in  charge  of  some  "  light "(?)  luggage, 
and  they  all  attacked  me  at  once.  But  the  French 
Bounded  so  good  to  me  that  I  laughed  and  asked 


WE  LEAVE  FOR  FRANCE  5 

what  they  would  suggest.  One  said  there  was  no 
choice,  we  must  walk  to  the  Crillon !  Just  then  a 
fellow-passenger  produced  the  oldest  living  cab, 
horse  and  driver — combined  ages  about  one  hun- 
dred and  ninety.  It  was  decided  that  we  would 
walk,  and  Josephine,  our  maid,  would  risk  her  life 
and  go  in  the  ancient  cab.  So  we  put  a  barrage  of 
bags  around  her  and  sent  her  on.  We  started  to 
walk.  As  we  were  feeling  our  way  across  the  Place 
de  la  Concorde  we  hear  a  terrific  row,  and  instinc- 
tively we  felt  that  Josephine  and  the  luggage  had 
missed  the  street.  We  were  right.  A  taxi  had  driven 
into  the  entourage,  knocked  the  horse  down — and 
we  arrived  on  the  scene  just  in  time  to  stop  the 
taxi  driver  from  going  on  his  way.  Such  a  mess! 
The  horse  was  so  old  he  could  not  get  up,  and  the 
driver  was  so  old  he  could  not  get  down.  Our 
fellow-passenger  pulled  the  cab,  assisted  by  our 
faithful  chauffeur.  I  led  the  horse.  Mother  scolded 
the  taxi  driver  on  one  side  and  sympathized  with 
the  old  cabby  on  the  other.  Josephine  could  do 
nothing,  as  she  was  completely  hidden  and  for- 
gotten beneath  her  barrage  of  bags  inside  the  cab. 
This  merry  little  party  made  its  way  to  the  Crillon 
Hotel.  We  paid  the  ancient  one  enough  money  to 
buy  a  new  cab,  a  horse,  and  insure  them ! 

The  porters  of  the  hotel  looked  at  me  a  little 
askance  as  I  led  my  poor  old  friend  the  horse 
up  to  the  front  door ;  but  as  the  price  of  Americass 


6  THE  BIG  SHOW 

was  going  up  every  minute  in  France,  I  think  they 
would  have  even  tried  to  find  a  bed  for  the  horse. 

The  Crillon  we  found  rather  changed  since  the 
War,  but  it  was  wonderful  to  see  clerks,  elevator 
boys,  waiters,  etc.,  with  medals  hanging  all  over 
them — some  with  arms,  eyes  or  even  legs  missing — 
but  a  smile  of  welcome  that  the  French  know  so 
well  how  to  "  put  over,"  as  we  say. 

Paris  at  last! 

No  food  after  eight-thirty — no  lights  to  speak  of 
— no  hot  water,  but  Paris!  and  there  is  only  one, 
n'est-ce  pas? 

Paris  the  Glorious! 

The  next  day  was  a  lovely  one,  and  Paris  looked 
her  best.  I  say  I  could  not  see  any  suggestion  of 
sadness  anywhere;  but  then  I  am  not  a  judge,  for 
I  have  the  faculty  of  not  seeing  sadness,  and  it's 
a  good  thing,  as  my  job  was  to  be  merry  and  bright. 

When  I  left  home  we  had  no  arrangement  with 
the  Red  Cross  or  Y.M.C.A. ;  we  came  ostensibly  to 
fulfill  contracts  in  Paris  and  London.  But  the 
Y.M.C.A.  was  right  on  the  job  that  very  next  day 
after  our  arrival.  They  had  a  map  of  France  with 
dots  all  over  it,  showing  where  the  Americans  were 
in  France — and  where  their  circuit  would  take  me 
if  I  would  go.  At  first  I  was  not  too  keen  on  being 
with  the  Y.M.C.A.  It  sounded  rather  like  it  might 
cramp  my  speed — and  I  asked  them  quite  frankly 


PARIS  THE  GLORIOUS  7 

if  my  friends  could  come  to  the  shows  whether  they 
were  Young  Christians  or  not  I  They  explained 
that  they  had  only  one  idea,  that  was  to  make  the 
boys  happy.  As  we  had  the  same  idea,  we  agreed 
to  start  at  once.  That  very  afternoon  they  sent  a 
pianist  up,  and  we  rehearsed.  I  must  say  for  a 
Christian  Association  they  have  some  speed.  It 
was  arranged  I  would  start  on  tour  one  week  later, 
and  in  the  meantime  would  practice  on  the  soldiers 
in  and  around  Paris.  The  following  day  we  had  to 
dash  about  getting  permission  to  remain  in  Paris — 
a  very  trying  tour  of  offices — explaining  to  at  least 
five  French  officials,  who  really  did  not  care  at  all, 
who  your  father  and  mother  were,  where  you  were 
born — and  why  I  After  that  another  tour  for  bread 
tickets.  We  dragged  ourselves  home  thoroughly 
agreeing  with  Sherman,  and  found  that  it  was  a 
meatless  day!! 

After  getting  very  chummy  with  a  piece  of  fish,  I 
put  on  my  little  pleated  blue  skirt  which  I  wore  all 
over  France;  all  the  time  we  were  there  I  never 
wore  a  real  evening  gown  but  three  times! — and 
at  that  I  had  a  cold  most  of  the  time.  I  ran 
through  my  songs,  thought  up  a  few  stories  and 
started  out  to  try  myself  on  the  boys  for  the  first 
time.  It  was  at  the  Pavilion — a  hotel  which  they 
had  taken  over  for  our  men. 

Of  course  from  the  work  I  had  done  in  camps 
and  hospitals  in  England  and  at  home,  I  knew 


8  THE  BIG  SHOW 

pretty  well  what  the  fellows  liked — but  I  never 
realized  what  it  would  mean  to  them  to  see  a  girl 
from  home  that  they  knew,  more  or  less.  They 
cheered  so  long  and  so  loud  when  I  appeared  that 
I  nearly  burst  into  tears,  but  finally  burst  into  song 
instead — which  is  nearly  as  sad.  However,  to  them 
I  was  Melba  and  Pavlova.  I  sang  "  When  Yankee 
Doodle  Learns  to  Parlez-Vous  Frangais,"  which  was 
quite  unknown  at  the  time,  for  my  first  song.  I 
told  some  stories — sang  "  Cleopatra  " — more  stories 
— then  "  The  Ragtime  Strutters'  Ball,"  and  finished 
up  with  "  Over  There,"  in  which  they  all  joined. 

Of  course  the  real  joy  to  me  was  that  they  liked 
just  me  and  did  not  ask  me  to  imitate  someone 
else.  I  was  so  proud  of  that.  I  was  on  about 
thirty-five  minutes  that  night,  and  when  I  finally 
tore  myself  away  (I  did  not  want  to  leave  at  all!) 
went  home,  sat  down  and  cried  from  sheer  joy! 
Mother  cried,  too;  in  fact,  we  enjoyed  ourselves  a 
lot. 

When  my  French  managers  came  next  day  to 
talk  business  and  find  out  when  I  would  play,  we 
informed  them  that  we  could  do  nothing  for  at 
least  a  month,  but  that  I  would  play  at  the  end  of 
that  time.  And  we  really  believed  it  when  we  said 
it.    Little  did  we  know  the  spell  of  the  A.E.F. 

This  first  appearance  was  on  Saturday,  and  for 
one  week  we  went  every  night  to  places  around 
Paris  where  our  boys  were.    One  night  to  a  tractor 


PARIS  THE  GLORIOUS  9 

school — next  to  some  anti-aircraft  boys — then  out 
to  some  poor  engineers  who  were  only  an  hour  from 
Paris,  but  not  allowed  in  the  city.  There  were  only 
about  two  hundred  of  them,  but  if  they  were  as 
wild  as  they  sounded,  they  were  quite  right  to  keep 
them  out  of  a  tame  little  town  like  Paris. 

They  had  a  maiwelous  cook  from  the  South  who 
gave  me  a  raisin  pie.  I  don't  know  how  he  knew 
that  raisin  pie  had  always  been  the  blot  on  my 
moral  escutcheon,  but  anyway  I  fell,  and  sang  three 
extra  songs  I 

The  next  night  after  that,  I  gave  two  shows  in 
Paris.  One  at  the  Rue  St.  Anne  Y.M.C.A.,  and 
the  other  at  the  Avenue  Montaigne  Club.  These 
were  both  very  nice,  but  I  must  admit  I  am  a 
"  roughneck  " — for  whenever  there  was  any  sug- 
gestion of  a  social  side  to  these  things  I  was  not 
so  keen.  I  liked  the  places  where  we  had 
to  go  through  mud,  climb  things,  etc.,  to  get 
there. 

Another  night  we  went  to  the  famous  old  Fort 
Destinn.  It  did  seem  strange  to  see  Americans  in- 
stalled there — and  with  them  American  comforts 
such  as  electric  lights,  hot  water,  etc.  The  French 
Commandant  was  still  there — though  rather  in  the 
position  of  a  guest  it  seemed  to  me.  I  gave  the 
show  in  a  sort  of  a  long  tunnel,  underground,  very 
damp  and  cold,  but  once  the  boys  got  in  and  lit  up, 
it  was  almost  cozy.     By  this  time  my  show  was 


10  THE  BIG  SHOW 

pretty  well  in  shape,  and  lasted  from  thirty-five 
to  forty-five  minutes — sometimes  more. 

We  stayed  in  Paris  ten  days.  About  eight  of 
them  were  spent  in  trying  to  explain  to  the  French 
Government  what  right  we  had  to  leave.  After 
asking  for  permission  to  remain,  they  could  not  see 
where  I  got  on  or  off  in  the  War.  I  was  not  an 
"  infirmere  " — I  did  not  deal  out  chocolate  and  ter- 
rible smelling  smokes  in  a  canteen — I  did  not  even 
drive  an  ambulance — and  yet  I  wanted  to  go  to  the 
Front.  Pourquoi?  To  amuse  the  soldiers.  Mon 
Dieu!  was  not  the  War  amusement  enough? 

I  was  a  well-known  actress — ah!  well,  that  they 
began  to  understand,  and  draw  their  most  French 
conclusions!  But  sapristi!  no!  she  has  a  Mother 
with  her,  who  is  always  with  her!  Quel  blague! 
poor  girl,  we  will  do  her  a  favor  and  get  her  a 
little  freedom. 

Mile.  Janis  may  go,  but  the  French  Military  do 
not  wish  any  more  women  than  necessary  in  the 
danger  zone.  Whereupon  Miss  Janis  threatened  to 
turn  all  of  France  into  a  danger  zone  if  they  tried 
to  cut  into  a  combination  that  experts  have  tried  to 
wreck. 

Well,  that  took  another  three  days  to  sink  into 
about  ten  heads.  Nothing  is  done  with  one  head 
in  military  circles  in  France.  They  even  shoot 
their  traitors  in  "job  lots.'' 

Well,  of  course,  we  waited — and  I  am  not  trying 


PARIS  THE  GLORIOUS  11 

to  give  the  impression  that  it  was  a  hardship. 
Paris  was  full  of  Americans.  We  had  a  lovely 
apartjnent  at  the  Crillon,  where  we  kept  open 
house  every  afternoon,  and  decided  it  was  a  "  good 
War." 

WHERE  ARE  YOU,  GOD?* 

Where  are  you,  God, 

In  whom  I  have  believed? 
Are  you  in  Heaven? 

Have  I  been  deceived? 
I  can't  believe  you  sit  up  there 

And  look  down  on  us  all, 
Seeing  the  horrors  of  this  earth, 
Seeing  the  brave  men  fall. 
I'm  praying  to  you. 

Are  you  there? 
Can  you  hear  me  call? 
Where  are  you,  God? 

Where  are  you,  God, 

In  whose  hands  this  great  world 

Is  like  a  tiny  ball, 
That  can  be  turned  and  twirled? 
I  can't  believe  that  you  have  seen 

The  things  that  they  have  done. 
With  poison  gas  and  crucifixions 

Battles  have  been  won, 
And  yet  upon  this  earth  of  yours 
There  still  exists  the  Hun. 
Where  are  vou,  God? 


*  Written  after  the  sinking  of  the  Luaitania. 


12  THE  BIG  SHOW 

Where  are  you,  God, 

In  whom  I  put  my  trust? 
You  must  be  there. 

And  you  are  great  and  just; 
Your  mighty  sea  they've  turned  into  a  grave, 
A  little  baby  slumbers  on  each  wave, 
And  on  the  lips  of  hundreds 

One  word — Save! 
Where  are  you,  God? 

Forgive  me,  God, 

If  I  have  doubted  you, 
For  in  my  heart 

I  know  what  you  will  do, 
Quite  soon  now  you  will 

Send  us  our  release, 
Quite  soon  in  j'our  own  way 

You'll  tell  us — Cease  I — 
And  with  one  mighty  stroke, 

You  will  send  Peace, 
For  You  are  there! 


CHAPTER  II 

BONSOIB,  GOTHAS! 

PARIS  had  not  been  raided  for  quite  some 
time.  People  had  almost  forgotten  to  show 
the  new  arrivals  the  spot  in  the  Place  de 
la  Concorde  where  an  aviator  fell  in  the  last  raid. 
It  was  old  stuff.    The  Germans  had  reformed. 

Pense-tu!  They  were  only  waiting  for  us.  In 
the  old  Zeppelin  days  in  England  we  never  had  the 
luck  to  see  one.  They  used  to  come  over  and  we 
would  read  about  them  next  day  and  hope  for 
better  luck  next  time.  So  we  really  knew  no  more 
about  air  raids  than  they  know  in  Berlin. 

However,  one  can  learn  a  lot  about  them  in  a 
very  short  time.  As  I  think,  Berlin  may  agree  one 
day  soon! 

It  was  the  night  before  we  were  supposed  to  leave 
Paris.  I  say  that,  because  no  one  ever  really  leaves 
Paris  just  when  they  planned  to  do  so.  We  went  to 
dinner  with  some  Anglo-French  friends  at  their 
house.  We  were  about  twelve,  a  very  gay  party, 
mixing  our  French  and  English  and  American  into 
a  cocktail  of  good-fellowship, 

I  think  it  was  in  the  midst  of  the  salade  that  the 

13 


14  THE  BIG  SHOW 

butler  came  and  stood  between  the  hostess  and  the 
gentleman  on  her  left,  and  addressing  them  both, 
said :  "  The  Gothas  have  arrived,  my  lady.  .  .  .  Will 
you  have  port,  sir?  " 

The  word  Gotha  at  that  time  meant  nothing  in 
my  life,  but  suddenly  to  my  wide-open  ears  came 
the  most  diabolical  wail,  sounding  like  a  Hippo- 
drome Chorus  of  lost  souls.  Our  hostess  smiled 
sweetly  and  said,  '^  Ah  oui!  voild  la  siHne!  "  and 
that  was  all. 

I  looked  at  Mother,  whose  black  eyes  looked  like 
shoe  buttons  in  milk — and  alive  with  expectancy, 
I  let  my  gaze  wander  around  the  table,  rather 
hoping  to  see  one  worried  look.  But  no !  they  were 
all  toying  with  an  unsuspecting  peach  Melba.  So 
I  took  a  long  breath  and  leapt  onto  mine  as  if  it 
had  been  a  German. 

Remarks  about  other  raids  and  how  many  were 
killed  floated  on  cigarette  smoke,  and  were  swal- 
lowed with  a  bit  of  peach  Melba.  Suddenly  Mother 
came  to.  She  realized  that  Mousme,  our  ten-year- 
old  "  Peke,"  Josephine  and  a  very  dear  girl  friend 
were  at  the  hotel.  I  mention  Mousme  first,  be- 
cause with  all  due  respect  to  everyone  that  is  her 
position  in  our  family.  Mother  thought  she  must 
telephone,  but  she  was  wrong,  because  telephoning 
is  not  being  done  in  the  best  families  during  an  air 
raid;  but  we  were  assured  that  the  guests  in  hotels 
were  requested  gently  but  firmly  to  descend  into 


BONSOIR,  GOTHAS!  15 

the  cave — so  that  was  that!  By  this  time  I  had 
thoroughly  bayoneted  my  peach  in  its  most  vital 
spots,  and  I  could  resist  no  longer,  so  assuming  my 
most  blase  tone  of  voice,  I  said :  "  Do  you  suppose 
they  are  over  us  now?  " 

^'  Mais  non ! "  they  all  cried.  "  It's  always  at  least 
twenty  minutes  before  they  arrive  after  the  first 
*  alerte/    One  must  wait  for  the  ^  tir  du  barrage.^ " 

Ah!  Now  I  understood  the  calmness  of  every- 
one. I  thought — Boom!  boom!  boom!  went  the 
guns  in  the  suburbs  of  Paris. 

'^  Yoila! "  cried  one  tiny  French  miss,  "  they  are 
coming ! " 

Boom !  boom !  boom  I    This  time  much  nearer. 

Coffee  was  served.  I  think  I  put  salt  in  mine  in- 
stead of  sugar. 

Boom !  This  time  under  my  chair,  it  seemed.  I 
found  myself  wanting  to  be  near  Mother  so  we 
might  share  the  same  bomb  as  we  have  always 
shared  our  joys  and  sorrows. 

Someone  went  to  the  window  and  opened  it.  The 
noise  was  deafening.  "  They  are  here,"  said  the 
window-opener.  "  Listen,  you  can  hear  the 
'planes." 

I  swallowed  my  salted  coffee  and  ran  to  the  win- 
dow. Sure  enough — "  Brrr,  brrr,  brrr,"  sang  the 
engines.    I  forgot  everything  in  my  anxiety  to  see. 

"  Pit  pat,  pit  pat,"  something  was  falling  like 
rain. 


16  THE  BIG  SHOW 

"  Shrapnel,"  said  the  hostess. 

Boom  I  brrr — gush  I 

"  Une  hombe/'  said  a  lady  with  no  back  in  her 
dress.  I  found  myself  wondering  if  she  was  not 
cold. 

Une  homhe!  and  perhaps  twenty  souls  hurled 
into  eternity  without  a  warning.  I  came  back  to 
earth  with  a  thud.  Mother's  hand  was  in  mine  and 
the  guests  had  gone  into  the  drawing-room,  already 
bored  by  the  monotony  of  the  guns.  I  squeezed 
Mother's  hand  and  said,  "  Well,  dear,  if  our  num- 
bers are  up,  we  will  exit  together." 

From  that  night  I  have  never  felt  the  slightest 
tremor  even  under  fire  at  the  Front.  I  have  always 
felt  that  so  many  nice  people  have  left  this  earth 
lately  that  one  would  have  as  many  if  not  more 
friends  on  the  other  side.  We  went  back  into  the 
dra\\ing-room,  where  to  the  tune  of  the  "  Livery 
Stable  Blues  "  we  danced  through  the  rest  of  the 
raid,  which  lasted  an  hour  and  a  quarter. 

I  am  sure  the  Angel  Gabriel  will  have  a  hard 
time  to  blow  as  glorious  a  call  as  that  little  French 
bugler  blew  when  the  "  All  clear !  "  signal  is  given. 

Ta  ta  ta  ta  ta  tum ;  ta  ta— rta  ta  ta  turn — ta  ta 
toot — Too — too — too  I 

It  does  not  look  like  much  on  paper,  but  it 
sounds  heavenly !  I  am  not  sure  he  is  not  Gabriel 
rehearsing  .    .    .  for  the  great  day. 

When  we  got  back  to  the  hotel,  fully  expecting  to 


THE  Y.M.C.A.  CIRCUIT  17 

have  to  go  down  in  the  "  cave  "  and  drag  Mousme, 
Josephine  and  our  friend  out  from  under  a  case  of 
wine,  we  found  them  standing  in  front  of  the  hotel 
looking  like  Cook's  tourists.  They  were  ahead  of 
us.    They  had  seen  the  Germans.    Curses! 

The  Y.M.C.A.  Circuit 

The  Huns  came  the  next  two  nights.  In  the 
hotels  they  put  all  lights  out  when  the  "  alerte  " 
is  given.  So  the  good  old-fashioned  candle  has 
come  into  its  own  again.  The  second  one  we  were 
at  the  theater — in  the  midst  of  a  scene  a  man 
walked  on  the  stage  and  said,  "  Messieurs  et 
Mesdames,  les  Gothas  sonf  arrives — la  representa- 
tion continuera  " — and  walked  off. 

There  was  a  buzz  all  over  the  theater.  I  trans- 
lated it  to  our  American  friends  for  whom  it  was 
too  fast,  the  man  being  rather  in  a  hurry  it  seemed. 

All  our  party  thought  the  raid  would  be  more 
amusing  than  the  show,  so  we  went  out  into  the 
inky  darkness,  tried  to  lure  a  taxi  into  taking  us 
to  the  Crillon.  He  wanted  forty  francs,  which  we 
thought  a  little  high  even  for  an  air  raid,  so  we 
wandered  home,  arm  in  arm — looking  for  things  in 
the  sky,  trying  to  make  ourselves  believe  that  a 
shooting  star  was  a  falling  Boche  airplane,  and 
when  we  reached  the  hotel  the  "herloque"  (All 
clear!)  was  given.  It  was  a  fausse  alerte.  So 
we  missed  both  shows. 


18  THE  BIG  SHOW 

Two  days  later  we  started  on  our  first  trip,  in 
a  Packard  twin-six  limousine  (very  hard  war!). 
Mother,  the  pianist,  a  very  nice-looking  and  un- 
Christian-like  Y.M.C.A.  man,  the  chauffeur — not 
ours,  because  he  not  being  a  Christian  was  not 
allowed  to  drive  a  Christian  Packard. 

We  left  our  maid  and  our  girl  friend  (who  was 
by  this  time  canteening  busily)  in  our  apartment. 
There  is  no  reason  why  I  should  make  a  mystery 
out  of  our  girl  friend  by  not  telling  her  name,  only 
I  decided  I  would  make  it  a  rule  not  to  mention 
names ;  for  if  I  tried  to  mention  all  the  people  who 
were  nice  to  us  in  France,  my  story  would  never 
be  finished  in  time  to  be  read  by  this  generation. 
And  then  I  was  told  by  our  Big  Boss  General  when 
I  joined  the  A.E.F.  that  soldiers  do  not  mention 
names  of  towns,  divisions;  in  fact  silence  in  the 
army  is  more  than  golden — it  is  platinum. 

In  writing  about  this  first  trip,  I  am  going  to 
quote  my  diary  and  save  all  those  superfluous  "  the 
next  day  "  and  "  the  day  after  that." 

This  is  what  I  wrote  at  the  time. 

Tuesday. 
Hotel  Jeanne  d\A.rCy  Mailly. 
Got  up  at  ten.     The  Huns  killed  and  injured 
seventy -nine  in  the  raid  last  night.    Swine! 

We  left  Paris  after  lunch,  lovely  day — it  seemed 
quite  like  old  times  to  be  motoring  again  in  France. 


THE  Y.M.C.A.  CIRCUIT  19 

The  roads  are  not  bad.  The  country  is  cultivated  to 
the  last  inch — and  all  done  by  the  women. 

We  arrived  here  at  five-thirty.  Were  met  by  the 
Colonel,  came  to  this  comic  little  hotel.  Jeanne 
d'Arc  has  a  lot  to  answer  for  if  she  is  to  an- 
swer for  this  "  joint.''  Mailly  is  the  largest  French 
artillery  camp  and  school.  There  are  thousands 
of  Yanks  here.  We  dined  with  the  officers,  where 
they  told  me  that  the  Cinema  Hall  would  not  half 
hold  the  crowd;  so  I  gave  one  show  there  in  the 
mess  hall  for  the  officers,  then  went  on  and  gave 
another  in  the  Cinema  Hall  for  the  men.  A  great 
bunch!  fifty  minutes'  show! 

Went  to  General  C.'s  house  afterwards — he  is 
very  young  for  a  General.  He  formally  made  me  a 
brigadier-general  by  pinning  one  of  his  silver  stars 
on  me.  There  were  two  French  generals  there  and 
a  flock  of  colonels,  majors,  etc. 

When  we  got  back  to  Jennie  Ark's  hotel  we  stum- 
bled upstairs  by  the  light  of  a  match  and  found 
that  the  very  nice  Y.M.C.A.  girls  had  put  hot  water 
bottles  in  our  otherwise  Labradorian  beds.  They 
were  nice — and  what  credit  those  girls  deserve! 
We  think  we  are  doing  something  staying  here  one 
night — they  stay  here  all  the  time — in  a  plethora  of 
the  finest  mud  I've  ever  seen. 


20  THE  BIG  SHOW 

Wednesday. 
Hotel  de  France,  Chaumont. 
American  G.H.Q. 

Got  up  at  nine.  The  Y.  girls  got  our  breakfast. 
Geo.  Washington  coffee. 

Went  to  the  camp  hospital,  where  they  have  a 
gang  with  the  Mumps !  Having  had  them  I  went  in 
and  gave  a  show.  They  were  so  grateful,  as  they 
thought  they  would  not  see  me.  Went  into  the  offi- 
cers' mess — said  good-by,  and  left  Mailly  at  about 
two.  Arrived  Chaumont  at  five.  Had  a  bite  of  din- 
ner in  our  room.  Nearly  froze.  Asked  for  a  fire 
and  nearly  started  another  war.  Went  to  Y.  hut, 
gave  an  hour's  show  to  about  two  thousand.  Some- 
one yelled  for  me  to  imitate  Will  Rogers.  I  said 
I  couldn't  because  I  had  no  rope — and  some  cow- 
boy produced  one.  I  was  "  stung  "  but  made  it  go, 
and  danced  in  it.    Riot! 

Rather  tired  tonight — not  such  a  bad  hotel,  but 
Captain  Kidd  was  an  amateur  compared  to  these 
little  hotelkeepers.  Now  is  their  chance,  and  they 
are  taking  it.  ^^  Vive  les  Americains!"  they  say, 
and  charge  you  forty  francs  for  a  room — ^just  a 
room,  that's  all.  But  why  shouldn't  they?  After 
all,  they  have  paid  in  a  way  that  money  can  never 
make  up  for. 

Thursday.     Chaumont. 
Got  up  at  ten— lovely  day,  but  I  never  expect  to 


mSmm 

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THE  Y.M.C.A.  CIRCUIT  21 

be  warm  again,  except  around  the  heart.  That  part 
of  me  is  on  fire  all  the  time,  seeing  our  wonderful 
boys.  At  two  o'clock  we  went  out  to  the  big  local 
hospital — wonderfully  run  by  an  all-American  stafif. 
I  gave  one  show  in  the  Red  Cross  hut.  Got  a  note 
from  the  boys  who  were  quarantined,  saying: 
"  Dear  Miss  Janis,  we  can't  get  out,  but  won't  you 
come  and  sing  one  song  under  our  windows? 
Signed,  Scarlet  Fever — Mumps — Meningitis  and 
other  Bugs." 

I  went,  of  course,  and  told  them  stories  and  sang 
— then  went  through  the  wards  singing  and  kidding 
with  them.  Two  hundred  and  forty  American 
wounded  came  in  yesterday. 

At  five-thirty  we  went  down  to  Y.  hut — met  a  lot 
of  the  French,  English  and  American  officers — then 
home — had  a  bite  to  eat  while  dressing. 

At  seven-thirty  gave  another  show  at  the  big  hut, 
two  thousand  more.  Went  on  to  officers'  club,  and 
gave  them  a  show — then  came  home,  nearly  dead. 
The  big  General  is  away  with  Secretary  B.  He 
left  nice  messages  for  me — sorry  not  to  have  seen 
him — they  say  he  is  some  man! 

Friday. 
An  Old  Chateau.    Bourmont. 
Got  up  at  ten.     Packed  up — talk  about  one- 
night  stands !    Left  Chaumont  after  lunch — stopped 
at  Bazoilles.     Another  big  base  hospital  run  by 


22  THE  BIG  SHOW 

Johns  Hopkins  Unit.  Met  officers  and  nurses. 
They  were  so  nice  and  have  had  no  amusement  for 
seven  months — promised  to  come  back  tomorrow 
and  give  a  show.  Came  on  to  this  town — ^very 
quaint  place  on  the  side  of  a  hill.  On  arrival  saw 
crowds  of  U.S.  troops  entrain  going  to  the  Front. 
There  is  no  hotel  here,  so  we  are  in  a  funny  old 
house  and  waiting  on  ourselves.  There  is  appar- 
ently no  one  else  here,  it's  quite  spooky.  Dined 
in  a  queer  little  room  with  five  officers,  then  went  to 
"  hut  " — a  very  rough  one.  Outside  the  door  was 
a  sign: 

tonight  at  seven-thirty 
America's  greatest  actress 

ELSIE    JANIS 

Poor  boys !  It's  a  shame  to  bring  them  three  thou- 
sand miles  from  home  and  then  swindle  them  like 
that.  About  fifteen  hundred  men  were  due  to  en- 
train at  eight,  but  General  B.  allowed  them  to  come 
to  the  show.  They  had  full  equipment,  tin  hats  and 
all.  After  the  show  they  marched  to  the  train 
cheering  and  singing  my  version  of  "  Over  There," 
called  "  Over  Here."  The  General  thanked  me  and 
said  I  had  put  "  pep  "  enough  into  them  to  make 
them  walk  right  into  Germany  singing. 

Went  to  officers'  club  for  a  few  minutes  and  then 
back  to  our  merry  little  dungeon — two  candles  only. 


THE  Y.M.C.A.  CIRCUIT  23 

One  joy  in  this  lightless  life  is  that  I  can't  even  see 
my  face — so  I  don't  know  if  I  am  looking  badly. 

Mother  has  a  terrible  cold  and  I  am  getting  one. 
I  wonder  why  France  goes  in  for  damp  sheets? 

Saturday. 
Hotel  de  VEurope,  Langres. 

Took  a  long  walk  this  morning  up  the  hill  to  the 
ruins  of  old  Duke  de  Bourmont's  Castle.  Some- 
body sure  did  ruin  it.  Left  Bourmont  at  twelve, 
went  back  to  Bazoilles  as  promised.  Had  lunch 
with  the  nurses.  The  hospital  is  full.  Gave  one 
show  in  the  hut  and  then  went  into  eight  wards 
singing  and  telling  stories.  One  boy  that  thej^  said 
could  not  live  asked  me  to  sing  the  "  Homesick- 
ness Blues."  I  did,  and  he  joined  in  the  chorus. 
He  promised  me  to  get  well. 

Came  on  to  Langres.  One  of  the  most  picturesque 
old  towns  in  France,  with  ramparts  and  a  wall 
around  it.  Also  on  a  hill.  They  must  have  been 
very  "  snoopy  "  in  the  old  days,  from  this  town — 
no  neighboring  village  could  slip  anything  over. 
We  dined  in  our  rooms,  then  went  to  the  hut.  An 
enormous  double  one.  Gave  an  hour's  show.  They 
were  so  enthusiastic  I  hated  to  leave,  but  what 
voice  I  never  had  is  walking  out  on  me,  I'm  afraid. 

Met  General  S. — very  nice.  My  goodness,  but 
the  woods  are  full  of  Generals!  My  cold  is  very 
bad,  just  my  luck ! 


24  THE  BIG  SHOW 

Sunday, 
Hotel  de  la  Clothe,  Dijon. 
Woke  up  and  found  I  could  scarcely  speak.  Ter- 
rible pains  in  head  and  nose.  Left  Langres  at  noon 
and  came  on  here.  Wonderful  hotel — first  running 
water  we've  seen.  I  felt  so  badly  sent  for  a  doctor 
from  the  American  hospital  here.  He  came  and 
said  I  could  not  possibly  go  out,  so  we  had  to  can- 
cel the  concert  for  tonight.  I  am  broken-hearted. 
The  doctor  says  I  have  inflammation  of  the  frontal 
sinus — sounds  almost  unladylike.  To  bed  at  once 
and  flocks  of  inhalations.  How  I  hate  missing  a 
show !  What  bad  luck !  Hot  water,  and  the  doctor 
wouldn't  let  me  take  a  bath !    Sunday,  too ! 


CHAPTER  III 
Birth  of  Big  Bertha 

THAT  trip  was  much  too  short  and  sweet.  We 
stayed  in  Dijon  for  three  days — and  then  the 
doctor  said  I  could  not  possibly  go  on  and 
be  exposed  to  the  dangers  of  singing  in  hospitals, 
camps,  etc.  So  we  went  back  to  Paris,  where  I  had 
two  doctors  and  was  confined  to  our  apartment  for 
one  week.  The  third  morning  after  we  returned, 
we  were  awakened  by  the  sirens,  which  were  fol- 
lowed by  large  booms  at  regular  intervals  of  twenty 
minutes.  "  Zeppelins !  "  everyone  said.  Zepps  fly- 
ing at  a  great  height! 

Poor  unsuspecting  aviators  were  sent  up  almost 
to  the  gates  of  heaven  and  came  down  with  ears  and 
nose  bleeding  from  the  high  altitude  only  to  re- 
port— Nothing  was  up  there  except  a  few  idle 
angels,  and  surely  they  had  no  bombs  concealed 
under  their  wings. 

These  "  booms  "  continued  all  day.  People  went 
about  their  work — children  played  in  the  Tuileries 
— poor  souls  left  their  homes  never  to  return  again. 
Personally  I  realized  how  Mr.  Damocles  must  have 
felt  with  the  sword  hanging  over  his  head.     My 

25 


26  THE  BIG  SHOW 

own  head  caused  me  great  pain,  if  I  even  turned 
it.  So  I  lay  there  with  my  eyes  on  the  clock  and 
my  hands  on  said  head  and  counted  the  minutes 
between  explosions,  and  piled  up  hate  in  "  gobs  " 
against  the  Boche. 

At  about  four  the  "  booms  "  ceased.  The  her- 
loque  blew  gayly.  The  evening  papers  announced 
that  our  brave  airmen  had  driven  off  the  foe,  and 
that  the  Germans  had  started  an  offensive  on  an 
enormous  front,  and  had  thrown  forty  divisions 
against  the  British. 

"Could  the  British  hold  them?!"  everyone 
asked. 

That  evening  a  friend  called  on  the  'phone  to 
tell  us  that  it  was  a  long-range  gun  that  had  been 
ruining  our  day. 

I  said,  "  Don't  kid  me.  I  am  ill."  But  he  in- 
sisted. 

A  little  later  the  sirene  sighed  once  more  and 
there  was  an  air  raid.  So  altogether  Big  Bertha 
made  quite  a  stunning  d^but. 

The  late  night  paper  announced :  "  Germans  ad- 
vancing. British  fighting  one  man  against  four  " — 
and  another  headline :  "  Paris  bombarded  from  a 
distance  of  seventy  miles." 

"  Impossible !  "  said  Paris,  quite  forgetting  for 
the  moment  that  no  "  outrage  "  is  impossible  for 
the  Huns! 

Bertha's  d^but  from  the  Hun  point  of  view  waE 


BIRTH  OF  BIG  BERTHA  27 

not  such  a  success,  as  she  only  killed  one  or  two, 
but  of  course  she  was  only  a  beginner. 

The  next  morning  at  seven  the  Huns  were  on  the 
job,  Bertha  coughing  with  great  regularity.  I  woke 
with  a  jump  that  landed  me  nearly  into  Mother's 
room,  but  then  went  back  to  sleep.  Bertha  kept  it 
up  all  morning.  I  heard  her  vaguely  and  dreamed 
I  was  a  sniper,  camouflaged  as  a  tree-stump  pick- 
ing off  Huns  by  the  dozen. 

At  lunchtime  Bertha  stopped  for  two  hours.  The 
Germans  must  eat  I 

The  real  Parisians  behaved  wonderfully.  The 
floating  population  floated  out  of  Paris  as  quickly 
as  trains,  motors,  trucks  and  even  weary  cab-horses 
could  take  them.  Some  said  eight  hundred  thou- 
sand people  left  in  a  week,  but  they  were  not 
missed,  because  everyone  who  had  a  real  job  that 
meant  anything  to  the  War  stuck  to  it  like  a  poor 
relation.  And  believe  me,  it  was  trying.  The  gun 
all  day  and  air  raids  every  night.  Verily,  the  Hun 
was  making  a  big  and  far-reaching  offensive. 

The  third  day  Bertha  coughed  five  times  and 
then  stopped,  choked  by  her  own  importance,  I 
think.  She  was  silent  for  three  days.  Everyone 
said  our  aviators  had  hit  her  where  the  chicken 
got  the  ax,  but  it  turned  out  that  she  had  re- 
ligious ideas  and  thought  the  better  the  day  the 
better  the  deed,  for  on  Good  Friday  mopTung  she 
came  to  with  a  roar.  She  hit  a  church  full  of  people, 


28  THE  BIG  SHOW 

killed  seventy-six,  wounded  ninety.  Of  all  the  hor- 
rible things  they  have  done,  this  to  me  was  the  most 
tragic.  The  victims  were  mostly  mothers,  sisters 
and  wives  ofifering  a  prayer  for  their  dear  ones. 

But  even  this  tragedy  did  not  touch  the  courage 
of  Paris,  for  there  were  bigger  things  to  face. 

The  Germans  were  advancing.  The  British  held 
them  valiantly  for  two  days  and  then  the  Boche 
broke  through  with  fury.  They  had  taken  St. 
Quentin,  P^ronne,  Baupaume,  Noyon — and  were 
nearly  to  Amiens ;  our  big  American  General  came 
forward  and  said  every  man  and  gun  of  the  Ameri- 
can Army  was  at  the  service  of  the  French,  to  do 
with  as  they  would.  Surely  these  were  great  days 
to  be  living  in. 

Bertha  barked  every  day,  rain  or  shine — and 
sometimes  at  night. 

The  Huns  came  and  dropped  hell  from  the  sky. 
Many  people  were  killed  in  Paris,  but  the  one  great 
thought  was  that  the  Germans  must  be  stopped, 
and  they  were !  With  Amiens  almost  in  their  grasp 
they  were  stopped. 

Everyone  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief.  Some  bought 
drinks  on  the  strength  of  it.  There  was  a  wave  of 
gayety.  The  theaters  filled  up  to  overflowing,  and 
the  next  day  the  big  gun  hit  a  nursery  and  killed 
thirty  mothers  and  babes  I 

No,  the  Hun  was  not  stopped. 

After  one  of  the  most  hectic  days  and  nights  I 


SOLDIERS,  THEN  MORE  SOLDIERS       29 

ever  hope  to  have  we  started  out  on  our  second 
trip. 

By  this  time  they  had  passed  a  law  allowing  no 
motors  to  leave  Paris  without  special  permission. 
So  we  had  rather  a  hard  time,  but  finally  made  a 
"  getaway  "  again  in  the  Packard — and  though  I 
should  never  have  left  Paris  during  her  days  of 
stress  had  my  work  not  been  elsewhere,  I  don't 
mind  admitting  that  we  were  glad  to  get  out — for 
compared  to  Paris  (as  many  of  the  boys  on  leave 
said)  any  old  battle  front  was  like  Philadelphia 
on  Sunday. 

Soldiers,  and  Then  More  Soldiers 

Friday.     Nevers. 

Left  Paris  at  noon,  stopped  at  dear  old  Fon- 
tainebleau  for  lunch.  When  I  say  dear  old 
Fontainebleau  I  mean  it.  Our  lunch  at  the  Hotel 
de  France  et  Angleterre  cost  so  much  I  wanted  to 
give  it  back.  They  are  such  splendid  robbers  there 
that  they  had  to  add  Angleterre  to  their  name  as  a 
sort  of  protection.  There  were  some  Americans 
"  even  there,"  dressed  in  French  blue,  studying  gun- 
nery at  the  French  artillery  school.  How  did  we 
guess  that  they  were  Americans?  Heard  them 
ordering  lunch  in  French! 

We  raced  a  Rolls-Royce  on  the  way  down,  and 
trimmed  it  "  so  pretty." 


30  THE  BIG  SHOW 

Arrived  here  at  six — changed — and  went  to  din- 
ner with  the  officers.  It  is  really  a  shame  the  way 
the  American  Army  is  picked  on  regarding  food! 
We  only  had  soup,  eggs,  fish,  two  kinds  of  meat — 
salad,  custard,  tarts  and  a  few  other  little  things, 
poor  boys!     War  is  ! 

After  dinner  we  drove  out  to  the  engineers' 
camp.  The  show  was  in  what  is  called  a  round- 
house— really  a  repair  shop  for  sick  engines. 

When  we  arrived  they  said  they  had  a  good 
entrance  for  me  if  I  was  not  afraid.  I  murmured, 
"  You  know  me,  Al.  Lead  me  to  it ! "  So  I  rode 
up  a  track  in  the  middle  of  the  place  on  a  regular 
Baldwin  locomotive,  not  in  the  cab,  but  on  the  cow- 
catcher, waving  my  free  arm.  The  fellows  fell  back 
on  either  side  and  the  engine  took  me  right  up  to 
the  platform,  then  "  toot-tooted  "  and  backed  out. 

What  a  wonderful  crowd! 

I  sang,  told  stories  and  cut  up  generally  for  an 
hour.  They  had  some  local  talent — a  quartette 
that  was  splendid.  They  taught  me  the  following 
to  the  tune  of  the  "  Old  Gray  Mare  " : 

Oh,  Uncle  Sammy,  he's  got  artillery. 
He's  got  the  infantry, 
He's  got  the  cavalry. 
But  when  he  wants  to  get  into  Germany 
He'll  send  for  the  Engineers  I 

There  were  four  thousand  of  them — all  I  have  to 
say  is  Heaven  help  the  Germans  if  he  does ! 


SOLDIERS,  THEN  MORE  SOLDIERS       31 

Saturday. 
Issoudun,  Flying  School. 

Left  Nevers  at  noon.  Had  lunch  at  Bourges. 
Went  up  and  took  a  look  at  the  Cathedral.  Mother 
loves  them — personally  I  have  waited  outside  of 
some  of  the  finest  ones  in  Europe.  Not  being  a 
Catholic  I  always  have  the  feeling  I  may  be  in- 
truding. However,  we  arrived  here  at  three — ap- 
parently most  of  the  W.W.'s  (wild  women)  who  did 
not  crave  Big  Bertha's  conversation  came  down 
here.  The  hotel  is  full  of  "cuties"  (not  cooties). 
We  had  to  fight  for  our  room — singular,  please 
note.  A  comic  room  with  two  serio-comic  beds — 
covered  with  two  of  those  enormous  comfortables 
that  the  French  hide  their  beds  under — about  two 
feet  thick.  And  once  under,  your  best  friend  could 
not  find  you.  If  as  a  child  you  have  ever  hidden 
under  a  haystack — you  may  grasp  the  idea. 

We  left  the  hotel  at  five  and  drove  out  to  the 
flying  fields. 

After  riding  over  the  road,  I  was  ready  to  fly 
anywhere  with  anyone  rather  than  return  over  the 
same  road. 

Sunday. 
I  still  have  a  cold,  so  stayed  in  bed  all  day  and 
got  up  in  time  to  go  out  and  give  one  show,  at 
Valentine  Field. 


32  THE  BIG  SHOW 

They  have  one  wonderful  dancer  here — a  young 
flyer  who  does  steps  that  would  make  most  profes- 
sionals sit  up  and  bite  their  nails  with  envy.  Also 
a  fine  jazz  band. 

Monday. 
Chateau  Mon  Repos,  Blois. 

Here  we  have  fallen  in  right.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  C, 
Americans,  asked  us  to  stop  with  them  as  the  hotels 
were  all  full.  They  have  a  lovely  chateau.  We  ar- 
rived at  tea-time — took  hot  baths — great  event! 
Dressed,  and  went  to  the  Y.  hut,  gave  a  long  show 
— great  bunch.  One  wonderful  fellow  who  led  the 
applause  sings  and  cheers  just  like  a  cheer  leader 
at  a  football  game. 

Until  tonight  I  had  always  been  very  careful  about 
what  stories  I  told,  thinking  that  as  I  was  playing 
Y.M.C.A.  huts  I  should  not  go  among  the  Young 
Christians  and  start  anything  by  saying  "  Damn  " 
or  suchlike.  Tonight  when  I  had  finished  my  per- 
formance, having  told  all  my  expurgated  editions 
of  stories,  the  local  chaplain  stepped  on  the  stage 
and  said,  "  Boys,  I've  got  some  great  news  for  you. 
They  are  going  to  make  Henry  Ford  Chaplain  of 
the  American  Army,  because  Henry  Ford  has 
shaken  hell  out  of  more  people  than  any  one 
man," 

After  that  I've  decided  to  tell  all  my  stories. 

If  the  Chaplain  can  get  away  with  it,  I  can ! 


SOLDIERS,  THEN  MORE  SOLDIERS       33 

Tuesday. 
Angers,  Hotel  du  Cheval  Blanc. 

Left  Blois  at  eleven.  Our  driver  W.  was  taken 
ill — we  picked  up  a  wild  Canadian  who  drove  us 
to  Tours,  sixty  kilos  in  one  hour.  Quite  a  change 
after  W.,  who  believes  in  safety  first. 

We  had  lunch  at  Tours — and  then  came  on  to 
Angers.  Had  the  doctor  here.  It's  getting  to  be  a 
habit.  I  don't  think  any  of  these  Army  doctors 
help  me,  but  they  certainly  are  good-looking.  Gave 
a  show  to  two  thousand  in  an  old  Roman  theater, 
which  they  use  for  anything  from  a  prize  fight  to  a 
cinema,  but  I  felt  quite  at  home. 

Wednesday.    St.  Nazaire. 

Of  all  the  holes,  this  is  the  prize.  Picked  up  a 
wonderful  story  that  describes  the  place.  Lots  of 
the  troops  land  here.  One  of  the  colored  regiments, 
the  first  to  come  over,  was  stuck  here  for  some 
time.  One  of  the  soldiers  got  enough  and  said  if 
this  was  France  and  what  we  were  fighting  for,  he 
was  quite  ready  to  stop.  He  went  in  to  the  doctor 
and  said: 

"  Doctor,  I'm  feeling  very  bad  and  I  think  there's 
something  the  matter  with  my  head."  The  doctor 
beat  all  around  the  place  and  found  nothing  the 
matter  with  his  head.  Sam  came  every  day,  and 
every  day  the  doctor  told  him  there  was  nothing 
the  matter  with  his  head.    Finally  Sam  said: 


34  THE  BIG  SHOW 

"  Doctor,  I  don't  see  how  a  man  of  your  intelli- 
gence can  talk  like  dat.  I  was  a  porter  in  a  Pull- 
man over  in  America.  I  was  getting  about  thirty- 
five  dollars  a  week,  and  I  volunteered  to  come  over 
here.  Now  you  know  there  is  something  the  matter 
with  my  head." 

I  gave  no  show  tonight.  We  were  thoroughly 
worn  out. 

My  first  cousin,  who  is  condemned  to  some  time 
here,  came  to  see  us.  He  joined  as  a  private  and 
has  just  got  his  commission. 

He  has  carefully  concealed  our  relationship  un- 
til now,  but  I'm  afraid  the  beans  are  spilled  now, 
as  he  was  seen  by  several  senior  ofllcers  to  meet 
and  kiss  us  on  the  hotel  steps. 

However,  we  will  hope  for  the  best ! 

Thursday. 

There  is  one  attraction  about  this  town.  It  is 
on  the  sea !  I  suppose  the  sea  can't  pick  the  places 
it  has  to  roll  up  against.  We  walked  down  to  the 
docks — and  saw  Baldwin  locomotives,  motor  trucks, 
automobiles  and  Fords  being  lifted  out  of  the  hold 
as  if  they  were  Christmas  to^s.  It  is  marvelous 
what  they  do.  The  French  stand  by  open-mouthed 
while  the  Yanks  take  a  small  box  of  what  looks  like 
junk  off  a  ship — and  after  about  an  hour's  tinker- 
ing ride  away  in  it — the  "  junk,"  I  mean. 

I  gave  one  show  at  the  officers'  club  in  the  after- 


SOLDIERS,  THEN  MORE  SOLDIERS       35 

noon.    Met  a  lot  of  attractive  naval  officers  from 
a  sea-plane  station  near  here. 

Tonight  I  gave  two  shows  at  two  different  camps. 
Such  rain — and  such  mud — but  such  "  regular 
guys"!  Everywhere  I  go  now  the  boys  teach  me 
some  song.  Tonight  it  was  this — to  the  tune  of 
"  In  My  Harem  " : 

In  the  Army,  the  Army,  the  democratic  Army, 

Beans  for  breakfast, 

Beans  for  dinner, 

Beans  at  suppertime. 
Thirty  dollars  every  month, 

We  never  get  a  dime. 
In  the  Army,  the  Army,  the  democratic  Army, 

All  the  Guvs  and  "  wops  " 

And  the  dirty  Irish  cops 

They're  all  in  the  Army,  too! 

So  they  are — and  that's  just  what  makes  it  some 
Army! 

Friday. 
Captain  C.  came  for  us  at  noon  and  drove  us 
out  to  Le  Croissic — the  sea-plane  station.  A  more 
charming  little  fishing  village  one  could  not  see, 
and  right  there  on  the  beach  where  the  simple 
fisherman  used  to  drag  in  his  nets  there  are  enor- 
mous hangars  and  enormous  sea-planes  inside  them, 
with  enormous  bombs  hanging  on  them,  all  ready 
to  bounce  on  the  wily  sub.  These  fellows  patrol 
the  coast  and  escort  the  ships  in  and  out. 


36  THE  BIG  SHOW 

I  gave  them  a  show  in  a  very  pretty  little  Casino. 
Le  Croissic  in  the  old  days  was  quite  a  smart  little 
seaside  resort. 

After  the  show  we  went  out  to  watch  the  patrol 
go  ofif.  Three  kids  went  out  to  protect  the  coast. 
It  seemed  almost  impossible  to  believe  that  these 
mere  boys  wlio  perhaps  would  rather  be  playing  on 
the  beach  could  be  putting  a  foot  on  the  lever  to  let 
fall  death  and  destruction.  They  went  off  laugh- 
ing and  singing,  and  I  found  myself  hoping  they 
would  not  see  anything,  so  they  could  keep  on 
singing. 

The  fellows  tell  me  that  killing  people  is  apt  to 
change  your  voice — ^it  gets  a  little  more  harsh — 
however,  we  came  back  to  St.  Nazaire — had 
dinner. 

I  gave  one  big  show  in  the  big  hut  in  town.  Two 
thousand.  Then  went  on  out  to  my  cousin's  crowd, 
where  I  had  the  honor  of  formally  opening  their 
new  Y.M.C.A. — a  lovely  one.  They  had  it  all  deco- 
rated with  flowers  and  flags — a  regular  stage  and 
footlights. 

Afterwards  the  officers  gave  a  supper  for  us. 
Captain  C.  told  me  a  story  which  I  have  added  to 
my  bunch. 

Two  coons  in  jail — talking  through  the  bars. 

Mo8€.    How  long  you  in  here  for? 

Sam.    Oh,  I'm  in  for  twenty  years. 

Mose.    Twenty  years?    What  did  you  do? 


SOLDIERS,  THEN  MORE  SOLDIERS     37 

Sam.  I  robbed  the  General's  house.  How  long 
you  in  for? 

Mose.    Three  days. 

Sam.    What  did  you  do? 

Mose.    I  killed  a  Sergeant. 

Sam.  How  that  come?  I  rob  a  house  I'm  in  here 
for  twenty  years.  You  kill  a  man  you  only  get 
three  days! 

Mose.  Yes,  I  know,  but  they're  going  to  hang 
me  Wednesday. 

Saturday.    Nantes. 

Got  up  at  ten — went  out  to  lunch  at  the  Motor 
Transport  Camp,  Saw  hundreds  of  American  cars, 
tractors  and  trucks.  They  are  all  assembled  here 
and  then  sent  by  road  to  the  front.  After  lunch 
went  out  to  Base  Hospital  No.  101.  Gave  a  show 
— the  first  big  crowd  of  colored  soldiers  I  have 
played  for.  They  are  a  great  audience,  and  when 
I  sang  "  Ragtime  Strutters'  Ball "  they  just 
"  whooped."  One  of  them  came  up  and  asked  me 
if  he  could  tell  me  a  story ;  then  he  told  me  one  that 
has  been  told  to  me  at  least  ten  times,  so  it  must 
be  good. 

Two  colored  soldiers  talking  about  Army  Insur- 
ance. One  says,  "  I  done  took  ten  thousand  dollars' 
worth  of  insurance."  Other  says,  "  Good  Lord ! 
Why !  You  ain't  got  no  wife  to  leave  it  to."  "  No," 
replies  his  friend,  "  but  you  know  Uncle  Sam  ain't 


38  THE  BIG  SHOW 

going  to  send  no  ten  thousand  dollar  nigger  up  to 
the  front." 

After  the  show  there  we  left  St.  Nazaire  with- 
out a  tear,  and  came  on  to  Savenay,  about  the 
largest  American  hospital  in  France.  A  lovely 
place.  We  dined  with  the  nurses — and  then  I  gave 
two  shows,  because  there  were  too  many  for  the 
"  hut."  Poor  dears !  they  came  in  wheel-chairs 
and  on  stretchers — some  pretty  bad  cases,  but  I 
never  heard  a  crowd  sing  more  wonderfully.  When 
we  left  they  limped  and  rolled  out  to  the  car,  and 
as  I  sat  back  in  it,  thinking  of  how  terrible  it  is 
that  those  mere  "  kids  "  should  be  suflPering  so,  they 
were  singing  my  version  of  "  Over  There  "  which  I 
taught  them  in  the  show. 

Over  here — over  here, 

Send  a  word,  send  a  word — 

We  are  here ! 
And  we  all  are  working. 
You  bet  we're  working, 
Not  one  is  shirking. 

Have  no  fear ! 
Mother  dear,  dry  that  tear — 

Soon  your  worries 
Will  all  disappear. 
We  are  over — we're  glad  we're  over. 
And  we  won't  come  back  till  its  over 

Over  here. 

We  came  on  into  Nantes — famous  little  old  place 


SOLDIERS,  THEN  MORE  SOLDIERS       39 

— and  found  a  nice  little  modern  hotel,  with  chintz- 
covered  furniture.  Our  driver  W.  is  ill  again,  so 
we  are  sunk,  we  are. 

Saumur.    Sunday. 

This  morning,  Bill — the  man  who  makes  music 
for  me — hustled  around  and  borrowed  another 
driver — a  regular  soldier  this  time,  and  a  great 
character.  I  asked  him  how  he  liked  France.  He 
said  "  O.K.,"  but  that  he  knew  why  the  French 
people  ate  so  many  snails — they  were  the  only 
things  they  could  catch ! 

We  stopped  at  Angers  and  went  out  to  the  bar- 
racks, where  Colonel  B.  put  on  a  review  of  the 
troops  for  us.  I  stood  and  received  the  salute  as 
they  passed;  they  did  look  wonderful.  Colonel  B. 
is  a  West-Pointer,  and  a  great  war  booster.  He 
exudes  "  pep  "  and  his  men  give  him  great  satis- 
faction. 

After  the  show  the  men  were  standing  in  line 
for  mess.  I  went  up  with  them  and  ate  some 
beans  with  one,  and  smear — otherwise  known 
as  jam — with  another;  they  loved  it  and  so 
did  I. 

Came  on  to  Saumur.  Through  some  mistake  our 
rooms  had  been  given  to  someone  else.  An  officer 
offered  us  his,  and  we  took  it  gratefully — a  small 
single  room — and  they  put  a  cot  in,  which  gave 
Mother  and  Elsie  something  to  argue  about  for 


40  THE  BIG  SHOW 

an  hour.  Who  should  have  the  cot?  Mother  won, 
as  usual! 

There  is  an  enormous  officers'  school  here.  I 
gave  the  show  to  at  least  fifteen  hundred  of  them. 
Lots  of  French  instructors,  so  I  sang  quite  a  lot 
of  French.  My  translation  of  "  I  don't  want  to  get 
well ! "  into  French  goes  very  well.  Our  fellows 
are  all  getting  so  they  can  speak  enough  French  to 
get  most  anything  from  a  toothbrush  to  the  village 
belle!  Saumur  is  where  they  teach  officers  who 
have  been  officers  for  five  or  six  months  how  to  be 
an  officer! 

They  were  a  great  audience,  and  as  there  were  no 
privates  there  the  officers  did  not  have  to  behave, 
so  we  had  a  good  old  rough  house — fifty-minute 
show! 

Monday. 
Chateau  de  Mon  Repos,  Blois. 
Called  up  Nantes  to  ask  if  we  could  keep  our 
driver  another  day,  and  received  a  most  military 
"  No !  "  So  we  came  on  here  and  wished  ourselves 
on  Mr.  and  Mrs.  C.  for  the  night.  The  driver  went 
back  to  Nantes. 

Tuesday. 
Crillon,  Paris. 
Left  Blois  at  eleven,  driven  once  more  by  the 
speed  king  who  drove  us  from  Blois  to  St.  Nazaire 


SOLDIERS,  THEN  MORE  SOLDIERS      41 

— we  made  Paris  with  him  in  what  seemed  about 
a  half-hour.  As  we  entered  the  Porte  d'Orl^ans 
Big  Bertha  gave  one  gigantic  cough  which  shook 
the  Packard  as  if  it  had  been  a  rat !  That  one  was 
too  near  to  be  funny,  and  it  killed  fourteen.  Some 
people  say  "  Bertha  "  is  quite  harmless,  but  then 
some  people  like  rattlesnakes  and  Germans. 

We  stayed  three  days  in  Paris.  Had  a  raid  every 
night  and  "  Bertha  "  off  and  on.  I  gave  two  shows 
for  soldiers  and  notified  my  managers  that  I  could 
not  play  in  Paris  for  another  month. 

The  French  brought  down  a  German  raider — 
very  satisfactory  three  days,  except  that  we  were 
cheated  out  of  what  we  really  came  to  Paris  for — 
a  hot  bath.  They  now  only  allow  hot  water  Satur- 
day and  Sunday.  We  arrived  on  Tuesday  and  left 
on  Friday.  Ah !  yes,  kind  reader,  fear  not,  I  took  a 
cold  one! 

Saturday. 
Tours,  Hotel  de  VUnivers. 
Not  wishing  to  spend  two  weeks  in  Paris  getting 
another  permit  to  go  away  for  one  week,  we  came 
to  Tours  by  train.  Very  nice  hotel.  The  Battle  of 
Tours  is  a  very  splendid  one.  The  town  is  jammed 
with  Bertha-dodgers.  I  gave  a  show  in  the  "  Opry 
House,"  wore  a  real  honest-to-God  evening  gown, 
and  my  back  was  so  cold  that  I  picked  up  a  table- 
cover  and  used  it  as  a  shawl.    There  were  fourteen 


42  THE  BIG  SHOW 

Generals  in  the  audience — three  French,  eleven 
American.  I  wanted  to  ask  who  was  running  the 
War,  but  I  saluted  instead.  Wonderful  crowd,  and 
even  the  Generals  could  not  hold  us  down. 

We  have  hot  water  here  every  day — and  hush! 
I  had  a  small  piece  of  butter  tonight  at  dinner. 
Aye!  verily,  'tis  nice!  ye  Battle  of  Tours. 

Sunday. 

We  had  lunch  with  General  A.  and  his  aide,  then 
started  for  St.  Aignon,  General  A.'s  headquarters. 
We  stopped  en  route  at  Chateau  Chenonceaux,  one 
of  the  most  lovely  chateaux  in  France ;  very  famous 
historically.  One  room  claims  to  have  held  five 
queens  in  its  time.  Sounds  to  me  as  if  someone 
had  stacked  the  deck.  Now,  as  is  quite  fitting  in 
these  days  of  falling  crowns,  the  chfiteau  is  owned 
by  Monsieur  M.,  the  Chocolate  King.  He  has 
turned  it  into  a  most  wonderful  hospital  for  the 
French.  We  went  through  the  wards  giving  ciga- 
rettes to  the  men.  The  chateau  is  built  across  a 
river.  In  the  old  days  I  believe  the  kings  threw 
their  cast-off  lady  friends  out  of  the  windows  into 
the  river,  but  today  the  gallant  wounded  men  of 
France  fish  from  the  same  windows,  so  Chenon- 
ceaux is  a  really  useful  place  at  last. 

We  went  on  to  St.  Aignon,  where  we  dined  with 
General  A.  and  staff  in  the  wonderful  old  Ch&teau 


SOLDIERS,  THEN  MORE  SOLDIERS       43 

of  St.  Aignon.  Where  there  are  Generals  in 
France,  there  must  be  chateaux ! 

It's  a  hard  war !  but  before  it  started  we  Ameri- 
cans used  to  come  over  here  and  spend  "  heavy 
American  dollars  "  to  stand  on  the  outside  of  one 
of  these  places,  and  maybe  be  allowed  to  see  the 
stables,  but  now  Americans  are  hanging  their  "  tin 
lids  "  on  some  of  the  most  royally  historic  hooks  in 
France.    C'esf  la  guerre! 

Gave  a  show  to  about  three  thousand,  a  nice 
rough  bunch.  Came  back  right  after.  The  Ger- 
mans are  starting  again  around  Arras. 

Monday. 

Rather  a  quiet  day.  Only  four  shows !  Went  to 
lunch  at  General  K.'s  chateau.  Speaking  of  Gen- 
erals, I  now  have  two  stars,  so  am  a  Major- 
General. 

Went  out  to  the  aviation  field  after  lunch  and 
gave  a  show  for  the  fellows  who  are  not  allowed  in 
Tours.  Someone  has  to  take  care  of  the  camp,  I 
suppose,  even  if  there  is  an  actress  in  the  village. 
Saw  lots  of  our  fellows  flying,  one  had  a  machine 
all  red-white-and-blue  stars  and  stripes  all  over  it. 
They  have  a  "  Liberty  "  'plane  here  also.  I  think 
they  are  going  to  send  it  around  on  a  tour  of  camps 
until  the  others  come. 

Came  home,  had  dinner  and  dressed  at  same 
time.    Sounds  acrobatic,  but  with  the  French  serv- 


44  THE  BIG  SHOW 

ice  in  the  rooms  nowadays  one  could  easily  bathe 
between  courses. 

I  gave  two  more  shows  in  the  "  Opry  House." 
One  at  seven  and  one  at  nine.  There  were  no  Gen- 
erals tonight,  so  we  cut  loose.  Afterwards  we  went 
to  the  opening  of  a  new  officers'  club.  The  club 
was  new,  not  the  officers.  I  sang  two  or  three 
songs,  standing  on  the  refreshment  table.  Picked 
up  a  good  story. 

"  A  young  cadet  going  up  for  his  first  flight. 
The  pilot  starts  looping  and  diving.  Cadet  yells, 
*  Hey !  go  easy,  this  is  my  first  flight.'  Pilot  says, 
'  You've  got  nothing  on  me ;  it's  only  my  second ! '  " 

Tuesday.     Bordeaux. 

We  left  Tours  at  eleven  in  an  open  Packard,  with 
a  Dr.  D.,  who  spends  his  time  and  money  trying  to 
give  our  fellows  pleasure.  He  offered  to  drive  us 
down,  and  it  was  a  charming  trip.  Stopped  at 
Poitiers  for  lunch.  I  must  say  Bordeaux  is  too  far 
away  from  action  to  suit  me,  but  if  these  poor  fel- 
lows in  the  camps  can  stand  it  I  can. 

Here  we  are  staying  with  Mrs.  A.  and  Ethel  R. 
They  run  the  Y.M.C.A.,  and  they  are  perfectly  won- 
derful. To  see  them  frying  eggs  and  dishing  out 
pie  to  our  boys  for  hours  at  a  time,  one  would 
think  it  was  their  real  profession.  The  boys  don't 
know  who  they  are.  I  heard  one  say  that  "  the  tall 
blonde  at  the  Y.  was  some  skirt  " ! 


SOLDIERS,  THEN  MORE  SOLDIERS      45 

They  have  a  lovely  house,  and  it  is  nice  to  be 
"  homey  "  for  a  day  or  so.  The  only  suggestion  of 
war  being  that  one  of  these  splendid  American  girls 
goes  every  morning  at  seven,  and  that  to  me  is 
war  with  all  its  horrors.  No  show  tonight.  I  feel 
almost  like  a  real  lady — only  not  too  much  so  to 
spoil  my  enjoyment. 

Wednesday. 

My  breakfast  was  brought  in  to  me  on  a  charming 
pre- War  tray.  I  felt  almost  abandoned.  We  all 
went  out  to  lunch  on  what  used  to  be  a  well-known 
yacht — more  than  well-known  to  Mrs.  A.  The 
yacht  had  come  in  for  coal.  She — the  yacht — ^is 
certainly  one  of  war's  stern  realities.  (No  pun  on 
"  stern  " ! )  She  is  a  very  dangerous-looking  grey- 
hound of  the  sea,  and  instead  of  cruising  about  as 
in  the  old  days  looking  for  pleasure  she  now  speeds 
here  and  there  looking  for  trouble.  It  seemed  to  me 
she  was  purring  with  pleasure  under  the  tread  of 
feminine  feet  lulled  by  sweet  memories  of  other 
days.  Nice  crowd  of  American  men  aboard  her 
who  looked  like  they  might  get  anything  they  went 
after. 

We  came  right  ashore  after  lunch !  Went  to  a  big 
camp  a  few  miles  out  tonight  and  gave  one  hour's 
show.  I  was  to  give  another  at  the  Colored  Sol- 
diers' Y.M.C.A.,  but  we  found  out  just  in  time 
that  the  colored  soldiers  were  French  Senegalese 


46  THE  BIG  SHOW 

troops,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  show  a  most  terrible 
storm  came  on  putting  out  all  lights.  So  as  I  don't 
sing  Senegalese  and  my  voice  is  not  the  kind  that 
will  stand  darkness,  we  called  off  that  show. 

These  Senegalese  just  look  like  our  colored  men, 
and  they  speak  French.  They  were  telling  me  of 
American  colored  troops  arriving  here.  Seeing 
these  of  dusky  hue  working  on  the  docks,  one  of 
ours  yelled,  "Hello  there,  Rastus!  Shoot  a  dime?  " 
The  Senegalese  looked  blank  and  murmured,  '^  Je 
ne  le  comprends  pas!  ",  whereupon  our  friend  from 
Alabam  yelled  out,  "  Good  Lord,  here's  a  nigger 
what's  been  here  so  long  he's  done  forgot  his  own 
talk!" 

Thursday. 
Woke  up  feeling  so  sort  of  luxurious  that  I  had 
my  hair  washed.  General  S.  has  practically  turned 
his  car  over  to  us.  We  went  to  one  camp,  gave  a 
show  there,  came  back,  and  I  dolled  up  and  gave 
another  in  the  local  Town  Hall.  The  audience  was 
partly  French  and  the  Mayor  came  around  to  con- 
gratulate the  "artiste."  I  think  the  fellows  had 
told  him  that  I  was  the  Bernhardt  of  America. 
Poor  man !  he  must  find  it  hard  to  reconcile  himself 
to  my  "  cartwheels." 

Friday. 
Went  out  to  an  enormous  artillery  camp.    When 
we  arrived  some  colored  soldiers  were  playing  base- 


SOLDIERS,  THEN  MORE  SOLDIERS       47 

ball.     They  had  a  fine  jazz  band.     Gave  a  fifty- 
minute  show. 

The  officers  gave  me  a  lovely  bunch  of  flowers 
which  they  must  have  sent  to  Town  for,  as  camps 
and  flowers  don't  grow  together  as  a  rule.  After 
the  show  we  "went  on  the  platform  outside  the 
hut  and  had  the  band  play  a  fox-trot.  I  danced 
with  eighteen,  one  right  after  the  other — my  idea 
of  a  good  time.  One  dance,  eighteen  partners.  No 
monotony ! 

Saturday. 
Today  has  been  wonderful.  When  we  arrived 
here,  I  received  a  pathetic  letter  from  some  engi- 
neers and  wood-choppers  way  down  in  a  place 
called  Pontex,  saying  they  had  been  there  six 
months  and  had  had  no  amusement,  so  we  decided 
to  go.  We  left  Bordeaux  at  eleven  in  General  S.'s 
car.  It  rained  all  day  long.  On  the  way  down  we 
saw  a  Canadian  camp  by  the  side  of  the  road  with 
a  lot  of  the  saddest-looking  men  I  ever  saw  wading 
around  in  mud  to  their  knees.  We  stopped  and 
asked  them  if  they  had  had  a  show  lately.  They 
also  had  had  nothing  for  months.  These  poor  boys 
are  not  in  the  flring-line,  but  they  make  it  possible 
in  many  ways.  Well,  we  said  that  we  would  stop 
that  night  on  the  way  back.  I've  never  heard  three 
more  lusty  cheers  than  they  gave.  We  w^ent  on  to 
Pontex.    The  most  awful  road  now  which  used  to 


48  THE  BIG  SHOW 

be  the  famous  road  to  Biarritz.  We  arrived  at 
about  five.  Such  a  dump.  Even  the  officers  still 
sleeping  in  tents.  I  had  a  fearful  grouch  when  I 
arrived,  but  when  I  saw  our  boys  arriving,  having 
marched  ten  miles  from  the  depths  of  the  woods, 
smiling,  singing  and  cheering,  I  felt  so  glad  to  be 
able  to  be  there,  and  I  think  I  gave  one  of  the  best 
shows  I've  ever  given  in  the  middle  of  the  village 
square,  with  just  a  little  platform,  with  a  tent  cover 
over  it.  Rather  like  a  Punch  and  Judy  show. 
Those  boys  went  wild,  and  they  had  nothing  on  me. 

We  had  dinner  in  a  queer  little  house,  where  the 
poor  old  lady  had  lost  two  sons  and  three  grand- 
sons, and  was  still  able  to  smile  a  smile  that  was 
nothing  short  of  heavenly.  The  fellows  said  they 
could  last  another  six  months  on  joy. 

I've  never  been  a  glutton  for  praise,  but  I  cer- 
tainly cherish  every  word  of  it  that  these  fine  men 
give  me.    Sincerity  is  their  middle  name. 

We  came  back  and  stopped  at  the  Canadian  camp. 
They  were  all  in  the  hut  waiting — such  a  fine  crowd 
— mostly  1914  men  who  have  been  invalided  out  of 
their  active  regiments  and  sent  down  here.  Most 
of  them  had  seen  me  either  in  Canada,  London  or 
New  York.  I  taught  them  to  sing  "  Over  Here  " 
just  as  if  they  were  Americans,  and  believe  me,  they 
sang  it. 


SOLDIERS,  THEN  MORE  SOLDIERS      49 

Sunday.  Tours. 
We  left  Bordeaux  and  our  charming  hostesses  at 
about  two,  by  train,  arrived  here  at  five.  No  show 
tonight ;  not  because  it  is  Sunday,  but  because  the 
leading  lady  is  all  in.  Therefore,  as  Mr.  Pepys 
would  say,  "And  so  to  bed  and  with  much 
pleasure." 

Monday. 

For  the  next  four  days  we  are  doing  one-nighters 
around  Tours,  and  returning  to  same  for  the  night. 
Gave  two  shows  today.  Left  Tours  after  lunch, 
and  went  to  a  tiny  place  called  Celles-sur-Cher 
(pronounced  by  Americans  now  occupying  the  posi- 
tion as  "  Celles-sewer-Chair  " ! ) . 

Dined  at  the  General's  house;  he  was  away — 
probably  at  the  War.  Gave  the  show  in  the  old 
chateau.  My!  how  I  would  like  to  meet  a  young 
chateau  for  a  change ! 

The  Count  and  Countess  who  live  in  this  aged 
one  sent  me  lovely  flowers  from  their  garden. 
Their  young  son  about  fourteen  presented  them 
with  his  best  "  those  wishing  to  view  the  body  " 
expression,  but  when  I  thanked  him  in  French  he 
became  the  real  smiling  Frenchman.  Funny  how 
English  saddens  the  Latin  people ! 

From  there  we  rode  ten  miles  to  Pont-le-Voi — 
I  shall  not  tell  what  our  boys  call  it — however! 
The  show  was  given  in  what  used  to  be  Napoleon 


50  THE  BIG  SHOW 

Ill's  Riding  School.  Tonight  it  held  three  thou- 
sand of  the  finest  thoroughbreds  ever  seen.  The 
band  came  up  from  Tours  and  helped  me  out  a  bit. 
These  fellows  sang  a  good  parody  on  "  The  Long, 
Long  Trail" : 

There's  a  long,  long  trail  a-winding 

To  No  Man's  Land  out  in  France; 
Where  the  shrapnel  shells  are  bursting, 

But  we  must  advance. 
There'll  be  lots  of  drills  and  hiking 

Before  our  dreams  all  come  true, 
But  we're  going  to  show  the  Kaiser 

What  the  Yankee  boys  can  do. 

Tuesday. 
We  found  out  that  nineteen  miles  from  here 
there  is  a  British  flying  school.  So  our  flying  com- 
manders thought  it  would  be  nice  to  pay  them  the 
compliment  of  calling,  as  they  know  we  are  in 
Tours.  I  said  "  calling  "  was  out  of  my  line,  but 
that  I  would  give  them  a  show.  So  today  we 
went  out  to  the  American  flying  field,  had  lunch  at 
the  officers'  mess,  and  then  went  on  over  to  Ven- 
dome — the  British  naval  flying  school.  It  rained, 
so  there  was  no  flying,  and  all  work  was  called  off. 
I  gave  them  a  show  at  three  in  the  most  delightful 
miniature  theater,  with  lights,  spot-lights,  all  colorj 
— a  splendid  orchestra,  stage  hung  in  golden-colored 
silk  draperies,  a  stage  manager — in  fact,  every- 
thing.    They  were  a  wonderful  audience,  and  it 


SOLDIERS,  THEN  MORE  SOLDIERS       51 

seemed  like  England  again  to  hear  them  yell 
"  'Core !  'Core !  "  which  sounds  rather  personal  but 
really  means  ''Encore! "  After  the  show  we  had 
tea  and  looked  around  the  camp.  It  is  a  garden 
spot,  with  small  cottages  and  flowers  all  around 
them,  Pansies  and  forget-me-nots  seem  to  be  the 
most  popular  flowers — rather  nice  idea  for  a  flying 
school.  I  don't  believe  any  of  these  cadets  can  be 
over  seventeen — mere  babies.  We  dined  with  the 
officers.  They  have  a  large  table  in  the  shape  of 
a  horse  shoe,  and  all  the  formality  of  London.  The 
best  stewards  of  the  best  ships  serving,  each  fellow 
has  his  own  sugar  tin,  tea  rations,  etc.  One  thing 
which  impressed  me  immensely  was  that  when  we 
were  all  seated  the  Commander  quietly  tapped  the 
table  and  said  grace.  After  dinner  they  gave  a 
show  for  us  which  was  as  good  as  anything  I've 
ever  seen.  They  had  a  "  girl "  who  was  so  pretty 
that  I  was  ashamed  to  get  up  on  the  stage  after 
her,  and  was  very  thankful  that  my  skirts  were  not 
as  short  as  "hers."    Comparisons  are  odious! 

"  She  "  asked  me  if  I  had  a  spare  evening  gown, 
so  I  am  going  to  send  "  her  "  one.  They  said  "  she  " 
is  a  "  damn  good  little  mechanic."  They  taught  me 
their  favorite  song,  which  I  love : 

Good-bye^e !  Good-bye-ee ! 

Dry  the  tear,  baby  dear. 
From  your  eye-ee. 


52  THE  BIG  SHOW 

Though  it's  hard  to  part,  I  know, 
I'm  so  tickled  to  death  to  go, 
Don't  cry-ee,  don't  sigh-ee — 
There's  a  silver  lining  in  the  sky-ee. 

So  long,  old  thing,  \' 

Cheery-oh!    Chinchin!    ^ 
Na-pooh — toodle-oo — 

Good-bye-ee ! 

And  we  hated  to  say  it. 

Wednesday. 
Left  Tours  after  lunch  in  a  very  splendid-looking 
big  army  car,  which  lay  right  down  and  died  on  us 
halfway  to  our  destination.  There  were  no  houses 
anywhere  near  us,  and  apparently  no  one  wanted 
to  go  where  we  were  going,  as  nothing  came  by. 
Finally,  when  we  were  just  about  ready  to  "  hoof 
it "  to  the  next  town,  a  tiny  speck  appeared.  Was 
it  a  dog  running?  No !  Was  it  one  of  those  French 
goats  gone  wild?  No!  And  it  was  not  a  Ford. 
Fooled  again.  It  was  a  Dodge — one  of  the  smallest 
unimportant-looking  Dodges  I  ever  saw — ^but  to  us 
a  super-Rolls-Royce.  We  hailed  it — there  were 
three  men  in  it,  and  one  of  the  biggest  bags  I  ever 
saw.  The  officer  in  the  back  seat  leapt  out — sighs 
of  relief,  he  knew  me!  He  would  take  us.  Well, 
as  we  were  three  and  they  were  three,  it  was  no 
joke  for  the  Dodge,  but  she  snorted  and  ran  like 
mad.  The  Major,  it  turned  out,  was  the  paymaster 
— the  man  the  boys  write  songs  about ! — hence  the 
huge  satchel.    He  was  very  nice.    I  sat  on  his  lap 


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SOLDIERS,  THEN  MORE  SOLDIERS       53 

most  of  the  way,  but  his  orderly  sat  on  the  satchel — 
so  the  boys  got  paid  that  night. 

We  gave  two  shows  at  a  place  called  Gievre.  It 
was  a  Y.M.C.A.  General  Headquarters,  and  when  I 
walked  onto  the  platform  about  twenty  Christians, 
some  young,  some  old,  were  sitting  there.  When 
it  came  to  high -kicking,  turning  cartwheels  and 
telling  stories  which  the  boys  have  taught  me  right 
in  their  Christian  laps — I  was  rather  nonplussed — 
but  I  must  say  they  had  all  the  staying  powers  of 
their  martyred  ancestors.  When  I  missed  one  of 
them  by  about  two  inches  he  merely  held  out  his 
arms — real  Christian  spirit. 

At  this  place  there  is  an  American-built  ice  plant 
about  half  a  mile  long.  It  is  almost  magical,  the 
things  our  men  have  built  in  so  short  a  time.  I'm 
sure  someone  has  Aladdin's  lamp  and  he  certainly 
is  working  it  overtime. 

Two  or  three  days  later  we  went  back  to  Paris 
after  a  few  more  shows  around  Tours.  Before 
leaving  there  we  went  to  a  dance  out  at  the  avia- 
tion camp,  given  by  the  oflScers  for  the  U.S.  tele- 
phone girls  who  are  here  saving  the  time  and  tem- 
per of  the  A.E.F.  I  loved  seeing  them,  such  a  nice 
crowd  of  girls,  and  though  Tours  is  full  of  wild 
Frenchwomen,  some  famed  for  good  looks,  our  boys 
all  claim  that  these  "  hello  girls  "  are  the  best- 
looking  girls  in  France. 

We  got  back  to  Paris  in  the  midst  of  an  air  raid, 


54  THE  BIG  SHOW 

which  I  must  say  was  rather  a  relief.  The  Battle 
of  Tours  was  very  nice  and  everything,  but  rather 
quiet. 

After  a  few  days  in  Paris,  during  which  we  noti- 
fied my  French  and  English  managers  that  I  could 
not  get  interested  in  any  theater  but  the  theater  of 
war — at  least  until  fall — we  started  for  that  same 
theater,  the  real  American  Front,  known  as  the 
Tout  Sector — and  though  we  loved  every  second  in 
France  the  real  fun  began  when  we  got  up  where 
roads  were  camouflaged  and  we  could  hear  the  guns 
all  the  time — not  the  air  raid  barrage — but  the  big 
American  guns  that  were  sending  real  American- 
made  hell  into  Germany  night  and  day. 


THE  YANK  SPEAKS 

Don't  think,  Tommy,  we  don't  know  just  what  you've 

had  to  do, 
Believe  me,  kid,  we  realize  the  hell  that  you've  been 

through ; 
When  we  came  in,  we  came  in  strong,  but  one  thing 

sure  is  true. 
They'd  have  never  stopped  in  Flanders  if  it  hadn't  been 

for  you. 

We  watched  you  fight  from  over  there  and  wished  that 

we  were  here. 
And  now  that  we  have  started  we  will  finish,  never 

fear! 


SOLDIERS,  THEN  MORE  SOLDIERS       55 

But  Oh!  you  British  Navy,  it's  you  that  helped  us 

through, 
'Cause  we  wouldn't  even  be  here  if  it  hadn't  been  for 

you. 

And  everything  that  we  do  now  you  guys  have  done 

before, 
Don't  think  we've  got  the  idea  we  came  and  won  the 

War; 
We  came  to  fight  and  fight  we  did,  but  all  the  time  we 

knew 
We'd  be  practicing  our  German  if  it  hadn't  been  for 

you. 

And  one  thing  now  is  certain — when  they  end  the  whole 

darn  show, 
When  they  ring  the  final  curtain,  there  is  one  thing 

we  all  know ; 
They  used  to  call  us  cousins  and  some  today  still  do, 
But  no  matter  what  we  used  to  be,  v>'e're  brothers  now 

to  you ! 

Note. — This  was  written  because  so  many  people  thought  that 
Americans  thought  we  had  fought  the  entire  War.  As  I  knew 
that  the  fighting  men  of  the  A.E.F.  were  not  boastful  and 
realized  thoroughly  what  England  had  done. 


CHAPTER  IV 
TouL.    The  American  Front 

AT  last  we  reach  the  real  "Zone  des  Armees" 
/-%  The  French  won  the  argument  about  the 
motor  pass.  Had  we  waited  we  might  have 
had  permission,  but  I  was  afraid  the  War  might 
end  before  we  could  convince  them  that  my  pres- 
ence was  really  desired  by  our  troops.  I  think  they 
suspected  me  of  having  a  husband  up  in  Toul.  I 
admit  that  had  I  one  I  should  be  very  proud  to 
have  him  here  with  such  a  crowd  of  "  regular  guys." 

We  came  up  by  train;  were  met  at  the  station 
by  General  E.'s  aide,  who  turned  out  to  be  an  old 
friend.  We  came  to  a  little  hotel  called  Hotel  de  la 
Com^die — should  be  tragedy! 

In  this  sector  we  are  taken  over  by  the  Army,  and 
very  nice,  too.  We  were  informed  that  the  General 
did  not  think  I  should  play  after  such  a  tiring 
trip,  so  we  were  to  dine  with  him  quietly  and  dis- 
cuss our  line  of  musical  attack  on  the  Toul  front. 
We  climbed  up  to  our  palatial  suite  of  two  tiny 
rooms  on  the  top  floor,  nice  and  handy  for  air  raids. 
We  dressed,   which  means  that  we  washed   our 

56 


THE  AMERICAN  FRONT  57 

smudgy  faces,  and  put  on  our  other  waists,  then 
we  were  whirled  away  in  a  very  important-looking 
Army  car,  out  to  Headquarters.  Toul  is  about 
seven  miles  back  from  the  lines,  and  that's  much 
too  far  from  things  for  this  fighting  General,  so  he 
has  a  chateau  out  at  a  place  called  Bouc — looks 
rather  like  it  sounds,  but  I  must  say  the  General 
has  a  good  front-row  seat  for  the  fight.  He  can 
walk  out  on  a  sort  of  terrace  and  see  two  or  three 
German  sausage  observation  balloons  any  time 
things  get  dull.  Very  nice,  but  I  could  not  help 
wondering  if  their  eyesight  was  as  good  as  the 
General's ! 

They  have  just  had  a  "  show  "  up  here  and  the 
General  showed  us  on  the  war-map  what  our  boys 
have  done.  The  French  have  decorated  them  all. 
Croix  de  Guerre  are  as  thick  as  "  cooties,"  no 
thicker  than  that,  because  up  here  they  don't  give 
the  elusive  "  cootie  "  a  chance  to  say  "  Kamarad  " ; 
they  have  what  they  call  "  delousing  stations  "  and 
it  is  quite  against  orders  for  anyone  to  harbor  a 
"  cootie."  A  delousing  station  is  a  very  nice-looking 
place.  You  go  in  one  side  with  full  equipment,  in- 
cluding "  cooties,"  field  mice,  and  other  souvenirs 
of  war,  and  you  come  out  the  other  side  with  noth- 
ing left  but  your  reputation,  and  not  too  much  of 
that.  It  means  about  two  days'  rest,  though,  so 
it's  getting  rather  popular.  They  tell  me  that  up  in 
the  front  line  one  fellow  offered  to  trade  his  Ger- 


58  THE  BIG  SHOW 

man  Iron  Cross,  pinched  from  a  dead-ed  Hnn,  for 
a  nice  live  "  cootie  "  which  would  prove  as  a  free 
pass  back  to  the  local  Turkish  bath!  Enough  of 
"cooties,"  dead  Germans  and  other  such — ! 

We  dined  with  General  E.  and  staff,  a  charm- 
ing lot  of  men.  The  General  has  issued  a  regular 
Army  Order  that  I  am  to  be  in  "  the  order  of  the 
day."  I  feel  very  important.  He  also  gave  me  a 
red  motor  pass  to  the  forward  areas.  We  heard  the 
booming  of  the  guns  all  through  dinner  and  then 
someone  remarked  that  there  was  a  little  show  on, 
so  we  went  out  on  the  terrace  and  were  introduced 
to  star  shells.  Very  lights,  one-fifty  fires,  and  so 
on.  What  a  wonderful  sight!  A  glorified  Fourth 
of  July,  the  kind  every  kid  dreams  of  having.  Red 
lights — green — what  a  nasty  idea  a  Very  light 
is — the  man  who  invented  it  must  have  been  the 
kind  who  motored  through  the  parks  turning  his 
searchlight  on  the  loving  couples. 

The  constant  cannonade  was  awe-inspiring.  I 
don't  understand  how  they  get  the  gunners  to  keep 
it  up  all  night.  We  came  home  about  nine-thirty. 
Captain  S.  brought  us  in.  When  we  arrived  in 
front  of  the  hotel  I  heard  an  aeroplane,  so  I  said, 
"  Isn't  he  out  rather  late?  "  Captain  S.  looked  at 
his  watch  and  said,  "  That's  a  Britisher.  In  about 
twenty  minutes  you  will  hear  about  thirty  of  them. 
The  British  airmen  go  over  to  bomb  Germany  every 
night." 


THE  AMERICAN  FRONT  59 

I  tried  not  to  hang  my  mouth  open  in  sheer  won- 
derment, but  when  I  got  upstairs  about  ten  minutes 
later  I  found  it  still  open. 

At  about  ten  we  were  all  ready  to  call  it  a  day 
and  turn  in,  when  suddenly  the  air  started  to  buzz 
and  throb.  We  slipped  on  coats,  switched  off  lights, 
and  stepped  out  onto  the  little  balcony,  and  sure 
enough,  there  they  were — just  like  so  many  taxi- 
cabs,  with  lights  on  their  wings  and  tails,  running 
opposition  to  the  stars.  They  were  so  loaded  with 
nice  juicy  bombs  for  Metz,  Coblenz  and  others  that 
they  really  groaned  under  the  weight.  One  by  one 
they  disappeared  into  the  night,  wagging  their  tail- 
lights  behind  them. 

There  seemed  to  be  a  mother  and  father  aero- 
plane who  sort  of  showed  them  the  way,  and  they 
did  not  go,  for  we  could  hear  them  buzzing  around. 
Mother  and  I  pinched  each  other  to  be  sure  it  was 
not  a  dream.  Such  courage.  I  can  imagine  going 
up  all  right,  but  think  of  coming  down  in  the  dark ! 

We  went  to  bed,  but  not  to  sleep.  We  could  still 
hear  mother  and  father  up  there.  Why?  we  asked. 
But  we  were  soon  answered.  At  about  ten-thirty- 
five,  the  chickens  started  to  come  home  to  roost.  We 
leapt  out  again  onto  the  balcony.  This  time  they 
were  not  groaning,  they  were  singing  and,  having 
dropped  their  bits  of  "  hail,"  came  running  home 
like  bad  children.  Now  we  understood  why  mother 
and  father  were  there.    Far  across  the  sky  towards 


60  THE  BIG  SHOW 

Bocheland  two  tiny  lights  appear.  The  engine  sings 
a  little  louder.  Nearer  it  comes,  then  up  on  one 
side  mother  lights  her  eyes.  And  says,  "  Come  this 
way,  child."  On  the  other  side,  father  says,  "  Well 
done,  child!    Go  to  bed." 

We  could  not  count  them  going  out,  as  they  were 
apparently  in  formation,  but  coming  home  we  dis- 
tinctly counted  twenty-four,  and  we  both  said  a 
little  prayer  and  hoped  a  little  hope  that  only 
twenty-four  had  gone  out  that  night. 

From  diary.     Wednesday. 

I  think  Toul  must  have  given  up  the  idea  of  sleep 
for  the  duration  of  the  War.  Toul  can  certainly 
afford  to,  as  it  has  been  sleeping  soundly  for  hun- 
dreds of  years. 

The  "Archies  "  (anti-aircraft  guns)  woke  me  this 
morning.  A  snoopy,  but  rather  nervy  Hun  came 
over,  supposedly  to  take  pictures;  personally,  I 
think  to  find  out  where  the  concert  was  going  to 
be,  because  in  the  midst  of  same  this  afternoon 
along  came  a  Boche,  sailed  around  over  us  and  went 
home.  Rather  rude,  I  thought,  even  for  a  German. 
After  all,  I  can't  help  it  if  I  don't  sing  Wagner 
and  if  I  had  he  would  have  gone  even  sooner. 

Gave  my  afternoon  show  up  back  of  the  lines  in 
what  is  called  a  rest  camp.  I  imagine  it  is  so  called 
because  the  mud  is  so  deep  that  if  you  once  step  in 
it  you  rest  there.    The  fellows  had  just  come  out  of 


THE  AMERICAN  FRONT  61 

the  line.  The  show  was  out  of  doors — the  stage  two 
tables  "  wished  "  together.  The  boys  seemed  rather 
shocked  to  see  me  at  first.  I  don't  wear  a  uniform, 
and  I'm  the  only  girl  I've  met  who  does  not.  They 
were  fine,  though.  They  gave  me  souvenirs  they 
had  picked  up,  pins,  medals,  German  coins,  etc. 

When  I  finished  I  asked  if  they  had  any  home 
talent,  so  a  nice-looking  boy  got  up  and  sang  a 
parody  which  he  had  written  on  "  The  Sunshine  of 
Your  Smile,"  as  follows : 

This  is  some  life  we're  leading,  me  and  you ; 

But  eheer  up,  old  pal !  this  War  must  near  be  through. 

We  from  the  States  must  fight,  yes,  man  to  man. 

Till  Peace  reigns  in  Europe  and  the  U.S.A.  so  grand, 

Then  give  us  a  boat  or  anything  that  floats, 

Volunteers  or  draft 

We'll  take  chances  on  a  raft; 

Give  us  the  chance,  you'll  find  that  we  won't  stall 

As  long  as  it  gets  back  to  the  best  land  of  them  all. 

Bless  their  hearts!  They  are  all  cheery,  and 
ready  to  do  all  they  can.  They  like  France,  but 
they  love  America,  and  the  slogan  up  here  is 
"  Heaven,  Hell  or  Hoboken  by  Christmas !  " 

We  came  back  to  the  hotel  to  dinner.  If  you 
could  call  it  that.  Napoleon  said  an  army  travels 
on  its  stomach.  Well,  I'm  glad  the  Army  is  not 
stopping  in  this  hotel.  They  would  never  make  the 
front-line  trenches,  let  alone  Germany! 


62  THE  BIG  SHOW 

Tonight  went  out  to  another  crowd  who  were 
just  going  into  the  line.  The  band  met  me,  and 
what  a  band  I  They  marched  ahead  of  us  playing 
"  Over  There."  Gave  the  show  on  a  platform  built 
up  against  the  local  Plaza,  which  was  one  story 
high  with  a  big  shell-hole  in  the  roof,  making  a  per- 
fect ventilating  system.  A  Boche  'plane  came  over 
and  the  boys  yelled,  "  Come  on  down,  you  poor 
boob,  and  see  a  good  show !  "  They  were  very  ex- 
cited about  going  into  the  line  and  all  asked  what  I 
wanted  them  to  bring  back.  I  said,  "  Yourselves, 
please." 

After  the  show  I  took  the  drum-major's  stick  and 
led  the  band  down  the  road.  Got  so  excited  that  I 
forgot  we  must  turn  off  for  the  road  to  Toul  and 
walked  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  too  far,  then  I 
didn't  know  how  to  stop  them.  So  I  held  the  baton 
up  over  my  head,  and  sure  enough  they  stopped 
like  one  man.  I  never  could  understand  people  fol- 
lowing a  band  through  the  streets,  but  I  certainly 
know  the  fascination  of  leading  one  now. 

Thursday. 

We  rode  over  to  Nancy  to  lunch.  Poor  old 
Nancy!  The  Huns  have  certainly  picked  on  her. 
I  couldn't  help  saying  "  I  knew  her  when ! !  " 

The  hotel  that  we  stopped  at  when  motoring 
through  this  country  before  the  War  just  isn't  any 
more.     They  bomb  Nancy  'most  every  night,  and 


THE  AMERICAN  FRONT  63 

still  these  brave  people  "  carry  on."  It  is  wonder- 
ful. We  came  back,  went  out  to  Bouc,  where  I  gave 
my  show  in  the  viUage  square  in  a  prize-fight  ring 
they  had  last  week  for  a  fight.  Had  an  enormous 
crowd  on  all  four  sides  which  made  it  rather  diffi- 
cult. I  asked  them  to  please  close  in  on  three 
sides,  for  though  I  knew  the  back  was  the  best  part 
of  a  goose  I  was  rather  scared  of  an  attack  from  the 
rear! 

The  General  came  and  stood  among  his  men,  re- 
fusing to  sit  down  while  the  men  could  not.  I 
suppose  he  figured  if  the  men  could  stand  for  the 
show,  he  could !  He  made  a  charming  little  speech 
of  thanks  to  me  and  as  he  left  the  men  cheered  un- 
til he  was  out  of  sight.  Then  I  had  Bill  play  a  fox- 
trot and  invited  the  boys  to  dance  with  me.  They 
leapt  into  the  ring,  and  no  matter  who  fought  in 
that  ring  last  week,  I  know  their  staying  powers 
were  no  better  than  mine.  I  danced  with  eleven  in 
the  broiling  sun.  All  privates,  and  some  dancers, 
believe  me! 

Gave  another  show  at  seven  at  Minet-le-Tour 
(called  Minnie  Letourrr  by  us!) .  Nice  girl,  but  we 
had  very  bad  weather.  Wind  blowing,  a  little  rain 
now  and  then,  and  another  prize-fight  ring.  I  ad- 
mit that  I  have  a  weakness  for  prize-fights — but  I 
prefer  a  stage  without  ropes  around  it.  In  the  first 
place  I  am  quite  sure  on  my  feet  and  so  far  have 
not  been  knocked  out.    The  ring  was  right  on  the 


64  THE  BIG  SHOW 

main  road,  and  when  ammunition  trains  were  not 
snarling  by  going  up  to  the  front,  the  local  church 
bell  was  ringing  out  in  protest.  "  Poor  Minne  Le- 
tourrr!  Look  at  her  now  and  before  the  Yanks 
came !  "  Last  week  prize-fighters  and  this  week  an 
actress !    No  wonder  the  church  bell  rang  I 

Despite  all  the  opposition  I  succeeded  in  giving 
about  a  forty-minute  show.  The  boys  were  in  the 
trees,  up  poles,  on  fences,  in  fact  everywhere.  As  a 
finish  I  led  the  band  and  danced.  When  I  turned 
my  back  on  one  bunch,  which  I  could  not  avoid 
doing  in  the  ring,  they  would  moan  and  groan,  so  I 
felt  rather  like  the  revolving  stage  at  the  Century 
Theater,  trying  to  face  them  all  and  only  having 
one  face! 

It  was  very  muddy  and  damp,  so  two  big  M.P.'s 
(M.P.  is  the  man  who  tells  the  A.E.F.  how  not  to 
behave)  carried  me  to  the  car,  which  took  us  on 
over  to  a  flying  field  where  another  bunch  were  wait- 
ing for  us.  This  time  indoors,  and  quite  a  relief. 
Splendid  stage,  candle  footlights,  and  flags  hang- 
ing at  the  back.  All  this  was  in  an  enormous  aero- 
plane hangar.  There  was  such  an  echo  that  my 
voice  came  back  and  hit  me  in  the  face,  but  we 
had  a  great  time. 

Colonel  M.,  the  boss  of  flying  in  these  parts,  made 
a  very  nice  speech  and  then  we  went  over  to  the  94th 
Squadron  Headquarters  and  met  all  our  American 
"birds."     Two  very  young  and  very  nice-looking 


THE  AMERICAN  FRONT  65 

flyers  who  have  the  honor  of  bringing  a  nice  live 
Boche  with  aeroplane  down  right  in  the  heart  of 
Toul.  The  Toulites  declared  a  holiday  and  spent  it 
kissing  and  cheering  the  two  young  heroes.  They 
were  both  decorated,  but  really  they  don't  need  any 
decoration.  Nature  beat  the  French  General  to  it, 
I  think. 

We  had  a  sing-song  at  the  piano  and  then  we 
came  home  firmly  convinced  that  heroes  are  very 
nice.  The  commander  of  the  squadron  looked 
about  eighteen,  and  is  in  reality  an  old  gent  of 
twenty-three.  He  had  at  least  six  decorations.  He 
looked  so  young  I  thought  he  must  have  won  them 
at  baby  shows,  but  no!  he  is  a  wonderful  "  Boche 
buster,"  and  though  an  American  joined  the  French 
Army  as  a  simple  poilu  in  1914.  Oh !  this  is  a  great 
War! 

P.S.  Tragic  note.  The  baby  "  Boche  buster  "  is 
married ! ! ! ! 

Friday. 

There  is  one  glorious  thing  about  having  a  natu- 
rally comic  singing  voice — you  don't  miss  it  when  it 
is  gone ! 

Minnie  Letourrr  and  her  church  bells  did  my 
near  alto  in  yesterday.  I  could  hardly  talk  when 
I  woke  up,  but  seeing  a  couple  of  thousand  dough- 
boys all  smiling  at  you  at  once  would  make  a  dumb 
man  speak,  so  it  came  back  in  the  afternoon. 


66  THE  BIG  SHOW 

We  lunched  with  General  A.,  boss  of  artillery, 
on  the  lawn  at  his  chateau.  (Some  day  I  know  I 
will  find  a  General  who  has  only  a  house!)  It  was 
lovely.  His  staff  also  lunched  with  us  and  his  band 
played  during  "  eats."  They  played  the  music  of 
all  my  shows  and  I  went  down  to  thank  them,  and 
found  that  the  band  leader  had  been  in  the 
orchestra  at  the  Colonial  Theater,  Boston,  where  I 
have  played  a  considerable  portion  of  my  career. 
He  gave  me  his  baton  and  I  led  his  band.  I  think 
I  shall  have  to  keep  a  private  band  after  the  war — 
it's  becoming  a  habit. 

From  there  we  went  to  Rangeval,  where  the  stage 
was  built  in  an  old  brickyard.  I  had  only  started 
when  it  began  to  rain  some  of  the  wettest  rain  I've 
ever  met;  no  cover  to  the  stage,  of  course,  and  as 
I  had  on  my  best  and  only  suit,  I  got  rather 
"  panicky,"  so  we  stopped  long  enough  for  me  to 
give  the  order  for  the  boys  to  "  take  cover  "  under 
their  slickers  (raincoats)  and  borrow  one  of  them 
for  myself,  also  an  overseas  cap  from  another  boy, 
a  bit  of  canvas  for  Bill  and  the  aged  piano,  and — 
then  we  "  carried  on." 

The  rain  never  even  stopped  or  hesitated.  I  was 
rather  glad  that  my  complexion  is  "  a  poor  thing 
but  mine  own  "  and  that  my  eyelashes  don't  wash 
off.  Those  boys  were  too  wonderful.  They  sat  in 
puddles,  but  their  enthusiasm  was  the  kind  that 
rain  could  not  dampen.    We  had  tea  afterwards  in 


THE  AMERICAN  FRONT  67 

the  nice  warm  kitchen  of  an  old  monastery ;  a  sweet 
little  Frenchwoman  insisted  on  my  warming  my 
soaked  self  by  the  fire.  I  did,  and  then  sang  for  her 
"  Joan  of  Arc  "  in  French.  She  wept  bitterly — not 
at  my  singing,  but  because  she  had  lost  her  "  man  " 
in  the  War.  She  showed  us  his  picture  and  we  wept 
with  her. 

The  boys  came  trooping  in.  I  sniffed  guiltily  and 
murmured  something  about  catching  cold. 

She  poured  tea  for  those  Yanks  with  smiling  eyes 
and  not  a  tear  visible.  I  guess  she  has  her  tears 
well  under  control  by  now,  as  her  man  went  away 
in  1915. 

From  there  we  went  on  to  Royamieux,  where  we 
dined  in  a  sort  of  underground  mess.  I  am  sure 
that  after  the  War  all  these  men  who  have  got  used 
to  descending  and  dining  under  shell-fire  will  hang 
about  the  Knickerbocker  Grill  and  the  Biltmore 
"  baths  "  just  because  they  are  underground.  Even 
the  subway  will  become  more  popular! 

After  dinner  we  went  to  the  hut — the  show  was 
to  be  indoors — and  I  was  delighted  at  the  prospect 
until  I  got  in,  and  found  that  there  were  just  as 
many  fellows  outside  as  there  were  in,  and  a  riot 
just  about  to  take  place.  They  were  hanging  on 
rafters  on  the  roof,  in  fact  everywhere,  and  it's 
rather  hard  to  do  your  best  to  the  accompaniment 
of  such  phrases  as  "Get  off  my  neck,  you  big 


68  •      THE  BIG  SHOW 

stifif,"  "  Take  your  foot  off  my  hip,  you  boob,"  and 
added  to  this  the  very  tiny  stage  was  absolutely  lit- 
tered with  French  children — all  sizes  and  each  one 
possessing  the  same  spirit  that  stopped  the  Huns  on 
the  Marne,  only  in  this  battle  they  were  attacking. 
They  had  decided  to  see  the  show,  and  see  it  they 
did!  Finally  I  realized  that  the  party  was  get- 
ting rough,  so  I  called  a  halt,  and  told  all  the  out- 
siders and  the  rafter-hangers  that  if  they  would 
run  away  and  play  for  a  while  I  would  give  another 
show  immediately  after  the  one  I  was  trying  to 
give.  I  did  so  and  had  another  riot  trying  to  get 
the  house  emptied  after  the  first  show!  Well,  it 
was  a  great  night,  and  I  wish  the  Germans  could 
have  seen  the  attack  on  that  Y.M.C.A.  hut.  They 
would  inhale  their  own  poison  gas  and  die,  all  in 
one  piece  at  least — because  if  the  Yanks  "  attack  " 
something  they  like  in  such  style,  what  would  they 
do  to  Germans!? 

Saturday. 
We  went  out  to  the  aviation  field  for  lunch.  I 
must  say  the  flyer's  life  may  be  the  shortest,  but  it 
certainly  is  the  sweetest.  They  live  well,  have  regu- 
lar beds — it  reminded  me  rather  of  a  boys'  school. 
After  lunch  they  all  go  down  to  a  sort  of  club- 
room  on  the  field  where  they  wait  for  an  ^'^  alerte  " 
— ^which  means  Germans  crossing  the  lines.  At  a 
certain  time  they  go  out  and  patrol,  or  rather  look 


THE  AMERICAN  FRONT  69 

for  trouble.  It  is  lovely  to  hear  them  talking  just 
like  they  had  been  out  duck  shooting. 

Conversation  at  lunch: 

First  Flyer.  Where  were  you  when  I  dove  on  his 
tail? 

Second  Flyer.  I  was  lying  up  there  on  a  cloud 
and  just  getting  ready  to  go  when  I  found  a  Fokker 
right  under  my  nose. 

First  Flyer.    Did  you  bite  him? 

Second  Flyer.  Well,  if  I  didn't,  I  fixed  him  so  he 
won't  bite  anyone  else. 

All  this  without  any  idea  of  bragging — just  two 
good  young  sportsmen  talking  about  the  day's 
"  bag." 

After  lunch  went  out  towards  the  Front,  and 
there  in  among  the  hills  was  the  most  lovely  natural 
theater — three  small  hills  and  a  little  stage  down 
in  the  heart  of  them.  The  fellows  were  spread  all 
over  the  hills  and  in  the  trees.  The  sun  made  a 
most  perfect  spotlight.  They  presented  me  with 
flowers  from  the  Curb's  garden.  I  felt  rather  as  if 
I  was  robbing  some  poor  dear  boy  who  has  gone, 
as  the  Cur^  takes  care  of  the  little  cemetery  on  the 
other  side  of  one  of  the  hills,  but  the  boys  were  very 
proud  of  having  flowers  for  me,  so  I  thanked  them 
and  told  them  that  Thorley  never  sent  anything  as 
nice.  Went  on  and  gave  another  show  to  some 
isolated  gunners,  then  came  back  to  Toul  and  be- 
came very  social  for  the  evening! 


70  THE  BIG  SHOW 

Having  had  a  very  charming  invitation  from 
General  P.  commanding  32nd  French  Division,  we 
went  to  dine  at  his  house.  We  had  thought  of 
course  there  would  be  Americans  there,  but  we 
were  ushered  into  a  room  where  fourteen  charming 
Frenchmen  of  all  ages  and  ranks  waited  for  us. 
One  out  of  the  fourteen  spoke  English ;  he  was  the 
General's  aide,  and  one  of  the  best-looking  men  I've 
ever  seen.  As  Mother  only  speaks  a  little  French 
she  drew  this  prize  beauty — while  I  sat  between 
'' mon  colonel  et  mon  commandant"  with  mon  Ge- 
neral directly  en  face.  The  table  was  marvelous. 
He  had  had  special  flags  made  by  the  wounded 
poilus;  menus  also  painted  by  them — lovely 
bunches  of  poppies,  cornflowers  and  marguerites, 
making  the  natural  Red,  White  and  Blue.  It  was 
altogether  the  most  wonderful  dinner  I  ever  saw, 
and  that's  all  I  did  do — see  it !  Imagine  thirteen 
charming  Frenchmen  all  asking  me  questions  at 
once!  Even  I,  who  flatter  myself  on  being  fairly 
speedy  with  the  eating  weapons,  never  succeeded 
raising  one  any  further  than  about  a  level  with  my 
wish-bone. 

They  were  all  most  enthusiastic  in  their  praise 
of  our  men.  In  fact,  General  P.  is  the  one  who 
personally  decorated  an  entire  Massachusetts  regi- 
ment. I  should  have  loved  to  see  the  dear  old 
General  kissing  our  fellows  on  both  cheeks  as  he 
decorated  them.    He  remarked  about  my  collection 


THE  AMERICAN  FRONT  71 

of  stars,  which  now  numbers  four.  I  am  not  sure 
he  did  not  think  I  was  Mrs.  Pershing  herself,  but 
anyway  he  said  I  must  have  one  of  his  stars,  and 
that  was  much  more  to  me  than  dinner. 

By  the  time  dessert  was  reached  I  decided  to 
grab  some  souffle  or  die  in  the  General's  house  and 
embarrass  him,  so  I  saw  my  chance.  You  see,  the 
whole  thirteen  worked  in  relays.  One  would  ask 
a  question,  then  he  would  eat  while  his  neighbor 
carried  on.  Finally  it  came  to  mon  colonel's  turn, 
just  as  the  souffle  arrived.  He  gave  me  my  chance 
— by  asking  what  kind  of  a  man  President  Wilson 
was  personally.  I  answered  that  I  had  not  the 
honor  of  knowing  him  and  fell  into  the  souffle  as 
they  all  tried  to  figure  out  why  a  lady  who  could 
wear  four  generals'  stars  and  travel  in  the  war  zone 
in  a  military  motor  did  not  know  the  President.  I 
just  let  them  figure  it  out  while  I  made  the  souffle 
do  an  Enoch  Arden!  Though  I  write  of  this  flip- 
pantly, because  it  is  my  custom  to  write  thusly — 
Mother  and  I  were  really  very  proud,  and  my  only 
worry  is  that  dear  General  P.  thought  we  were 
much  more  important  than  we  really  are.  How- 
ever, all  fourteen  have  promised  to  come  to  see  me 
when  I  play  in  Paris,  and  then  they  will  know  the 
worst ! 

Sunday. 
Today  is  a  red-letter  day  for  me.    I  have  myself 


72  THE  BIG  SHOW 

personally  killed  a  Grerman  and  maybe  three  or  four. 
At  nine  this  morning  we  went  with  General  A.  up 
to  the  woods  right  back  of  the  lines  where  the  big 
guns  nestle  in  sweet  seclusion.  We  got  out  of  the 
motor  at  the  place  where  motors  no  longer  are  pos- 
sible, and  got  onto  the  cutest  little  narrow-gauge 
railroad,  on  a  little  car  that  usually  carries  shells, 
and  this  morning  drew  a  couple  of  "  duds  " — only 
a  couple,  because  the  General  is  a  regular  first- 
class  "  high  explosive  "  in  the  artillery  end  of  the 
war  game.  We  rode  through  the  loveliest  green 
woods,  going  like  mad  (the  narrow-gauge  has  any- 
thing at  Coney  Island  beaten  by  miles!).  We 
passed  many  big  guns,  all  camouflaged  by  natural 
trees,  and  finally  arrived  at  a  battery  of  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty-fives.  The  General  gave  the  word 
and  the  show  commenced.  Boom !  went  one  on  our 
left  some  distance  away.  Boom!  on  the  right,  a 
little  nearer,  then  the  gunners  where  we  were  stood 
to  attention — "  Battery  ready !  Fire !  "  came  the 
order.  They  gave  me  some  cotton  for  my  ears,  but 
I  was  afraid  of  missing  something.  Boom !  she 
went — and  jumped  back  like  a  spirited  horse — 
"  Always  the  same !  "  came  the  order. 

"  Now,  Miss  Janis,  kill  a  few  Huns,"  said  the 
General. 

I  took  the  little  piece  of  cord  which  is  called  the 
laignon,  and  thrilling  as  I  have  never  thrilled  be- 
fore, I  stood  to  attention  and  waited  for  my  orders. 


THE  AMERICAN  FRONT  73 

"  Battery  ready !  Fire !  "  said  the  General,  and  I 
pulled.  I  was  so  excited  I  forgot  to  jump.  "  Al- 
ways the  same !  "  came  the  command,  and  I  pulled 
again.  I  would  be  there  still  pulling  only  for  the 
fact  that  the  observation  posts  reported  that  there 
was  nothing  left  of  the  position  we  had  been  shell- 
ing, and  as  it  is  a  very  expensive  war  I  desisted  and 
came  away  regretfully,  but  very  proud.  They  told 
me  I  was  the  only  woman  who  had  fired  regular 
hundred  and  fifty-five  power  hate  into  Ger- 
many. 

We  started  home,  but  as  I  had  heard  so  much 
about  a  place  called  Beaumont,  better  known  as 
Dead  Man's  Curve,  I  asked  the  General  if  we  could 
not  drive  around  said  curve.  He  said  it  was  very 
dangerous,  but  that  if  we  wanted  to  take  the  chance 
he  would.  So  we  said  "  Hear !  hear !  "  and  started. 
When  we  got  up  near  the  curve  we  were  stopped  by 
an  M.P,  and  told  to  put  on  our  gas  masks.  We 
did  so  for  a  few  moments,  but  I  decided  I  would 
just  as  leave  argue  with  the  gas  itself  as  be 
smothered  to  death,  so  we  hung  them  around  our 
necks. 

As  we  approached  Beaumont,  going  through  the 
remains  of  little  French  villages,  we  saw  lots  of 
our  boys  who  were  just  having  lunch.  W^hen  they 
saw  us  they  dropped  their  food  in  astonishment.  I 
hung  out  of  the  car  and  yelled  at  them.  We  got  up 
near  the  curve — a  sign  greeted  us:  ^'Attention! 


74  THE  BIG  SHOW 

Vennemie  vous  voit!"  (Look  out!  the  enemy  can 
see  you ! ) .  I  made  the  ugliest  face  I  could,  hoping 
that  it  was  true.  We  approached  the  curve — shell 
holes  big  enough  for  a  house  to  rest  in  on  all  sides 
of  us.  We  waited  breathlessly  for  Fritz  to 
"  strafe  "  us,  but  as  it  was  lunch  time  he  was  evi- 
dently otherwise  occupied.  Nothing  happened — ^in 
the  way  of  excitement — except  among  the  boys  who 
were  up  there.  They  seemed  overjoyed  and  cheered 
us  as  we  passed. 

We  came  back  to  lunch  with  General  E.  and  I 
had  lots  of  fun  kidding  about  that  terrible  place 
called  Dead  Man's  Curve.  I  said  I  had  seen  birds' 
nests  in  some  of  the  shell  holes  and  pollywogs  in 
others,  and  that  it  was  only  a  rumor  about  Fritz 
shelling  it.  He  was  not  at  all  pleased  at  our  hav- 
ing gone  up,  and  informed  me  Fritz  had  been  pick- 
ing on  it  all  morning.  I  am  glad  we  went  at  lunch 
time. 

After  lunch  I  was  feeling  so  important  on  ac- 
count of  my  morning's  work  that  I  had  to  convince 
myself  that  I  was  really  there  to  entertain  the 
boys,  and  not  to  strafe  Huns.  Gave  a  show  at  three 
for  the  ammunition  trains  fellows.  I  think  they  are 
exceedingly  brave  to  go  bumping  along  sitting  on 
enough  high  explosives  to  blow  up  the  Flatiron 
Building,  and  all  the  time  under  direct  fire  with  no 
method  of  getting  even.  Had  tea  at  a  town  called 
Lucy.     I  would  like  to  know  what  all  these  girls 


THE  AMERICAN  FRONT  75 

had  to  do  to  have  towns  named  after  them !  Went 
on  to  another  place,  Lagny,  at  seven. 

This  crowd  were  just  out  of  trenches  and  between 
the  joy  of  still  being  alive  and  the  excitement  of 
seeing  a  girl  from  home  they  very  nearly  went  mad. 
I  thought  the  French  inhabitants  of  Lagny  looked 
rather  scared.  Perhaps  they  thought  the  Yanks 
might  decide  to  throw  the  village  houses  in  the  air 
as  they  did  their  overseas  caps.  We  went  back  to 
Lucy  to  dine  with  the  ammunition  train  crowd. 
They  gave  a  show  for  us.  Their  little  French 
liaison  officer  sang  the  French  "  Tipperary  " — 
"  Madelon  " !  We  left  them  at  about  ten.  They 
work  at  night,  so  their  day  was  banning. 

We  came  home  by  the  most  wonderful  moonlight, 
as  bright  as  day.  There  was  a  terrific  cannonade 
going  on,  which  seemed  all  wrong,  according  to 
my  ideas  of  moonlight.  I  said  "  What  a  wonderful 
night !  "  and  then  suddenly  realized  that  the  ammu- 
nition train  would  get  it  hot  and  heavy.  So  I  sat 
back  and  hoped  for  rain. 

I  shall  hate  leaving  this  sector.  Everyone  has 
been  so  nice,  and  I  know  I  shall  not  have  another 
manager  like  Captain  F.  who  has  been  piloting  us 
about.  My  "  chief  of  stafie "  they  all  call  him.  In 
fact  they  had  a  big  sign  made  for  the  motor — 
"Elsie  Janis  Division.  Captain  A.  F.,  Chief  of 
Staff."     I  wish  it  was  my  division. 

We   got   home   at   midnight.     There   is    a   big 


76  THE  BIG  SHOW 

"  show  "  going  on  up  front.  They  say  our  guns  are 
making  most  of  the  row.  Oh!  gee!  I  wish  I  was 
pulling  the  string! 

Monday. 

We  were  to  leave  this  morning,  but  the  General 
sent  word  that  there  were  thirty  wounded  from  last 
night's  raid  out  at  the  hospital,  all  fellows  that  I 
had  sung  for,  and  he  thought  they  might  like  to 
see  me.  We  went  to  lunch  first  up  in  the  woods 
with  the  observation  balloon  crowd — very  near  the 
line  and  a  strafe  going  on  all  through  lunch.  Very 
soon  I  shall  write  a  new  version  to  an  old  song — 
Gee!  but  I  like  shell-fire  with  my  meals. 

Afterwards  went  to  the  hospital,  gave  one  show 
for  the  fellows  who  could  move  about  in  the  "  hut," 
then  went  through  the  wards  to  see  the  boys  from 
last  night's  raid.  Poor  kids !  they  had  just  gone  in 
and  were  settling  down  when  the  Huns  put  on  a 
gas  show  and  got  some  of  them  quite  badly,  but 
they  tell  me  that  seventy  dead  Germans  were 
counted — hanging  on  the  barbed  wire  at  dawn  to- 
day, so  that's  not  so  bad  for  beginners. 

In  one  of  the  wards  I  found  a  Major  who  has  been 
one  of  the  fellows  to  boss  the  big  gun  that  is  named 
after  me.  There  are  two  of  them,  big  railway  guns 
— one  is  "  Betsy  Ross  "  and  the  other  "  Elsie  Janis." 
I  am  certainly  proud,  for  he  says  we  were  chosen  as 
being  American  patriots.    I  don't  know  that  Betsy 


THE  AMERICAN  FRONT  77 

Ross  would  like  it,  but  I  feel  quite  overcome  by 
being  mentioned  with  her. 

He  told  me  that  Elsie  had  just  finished  making 
a  mess  of  a  position  when  he  got  "  his."  He  says 
she  is  some  girl  and  has  her  name  in  large  white 
letters  written  on  her  graceful  but  somewhat  hard 
face. 

Saw  one  dear  kid  who  was  terribly  bunged  up. 
He  had  gone  out  to  rescue  two  of  his  pals  who  were 
wounded  and  got  them  nearly  in  when  they  got 
him.  Also  saw  two  little  German  boys  both  shot 
through  the  spine  and  paralj'zed  from  the  hips 
down.  One  is  seventeen  and  looks  like  a  girl. 
They  are  lying  in  the  position  one  would  like  to  see 
all  the  Huns  in — on  their  backs,  with  both  legs  well 
in  the  air  and  about  fifty  different  ropes  and 
weights  tied  to  them. 

When  we  went  in  they  turned  their  heads  away. 
I  suppose  they  thought  we  had  come  to  sneer  at 
them,  but  somehow  one  does  not  sneer.  A  wounded 
man  is  a  wounded  man.  I  spoke  to  them  in  Ger- 
man, and  they  smiled.  The  pretty  one  showed  me 
how  he  could  '^  die  Fiisse  hewegen"  and  told  me 
he  was  glad  he  was  out  of  the  battles. 

They  tell  a  story  up  here  of  a  young  German  boy 
whom  they  took  prisoner;  he  spoke  English,  and 
one  of  our  fellows  asked  him  how  he  thought  the 
War  would  end.  He  thought  a  while,  and  then 
said: 


78  THE  BIG  SHOW 

"Well,  we  ought  to  win  because  we  have  God 
with  us,  but  now  that  the  Allies  have  America — 
ich  iveiss  nicht! " 

Tomorrow  we  leave,  and  I  am  sorry.  This  has 
been  a  wonderful  week!  And  so,  as  the  Huns  say, 
^^  l^ach  Paris  " — anly  we  will  get  there  and  they 
never  will! 


CHAPTER  V 
Neuilly  and  Our  Boys 

MY  experience  of  the  next  three  weeks  might 
have  been  considered  by  some  people  ter- 
ribly sad,  but  to  me  it  was  very  inspiring — 
we  got  back  to  Paris  and  learned  that  some  two 
thousand  wounded  Americans  had  arrived  at 
Neuilly,  the  American  hospital.  We  were  only  sup- 
posed to  stay  in  Paris  three  or  four  days,  but  I  got 
into  the  hospital  work  and  found  myself  more  use- 
ful than  I  ever  dreamed  was  possible. 

As  soon  as  we  heard  of  our  heroes  arriving,  I 
called  up  the  Red  Cross  and  asked  if  they  thought 
I  might  be  of  any  use  out  at  the  hospital.  They 
were  very  courteous,  but  not  too  enthusiastic,  for 
if  they  had  ever  seen  me  in  action  singing  "  Over 
Here  "  and  urging  our  boys  to  go  get  the  Germans, 
they  probably  thought  I  would  be  rather  too  strenu- 
ous for  a  ward  full  of  very  badly  wounded  men — 
as  these  boys  all  came  from  fighting  which  was  tak- 
ing place  all  too  near  to  Paris — then  came  direct 
from  the  field  dressing  stations  to  Neuilly. 

Well,  the  Red  Cross  said  they  thought  I  might 
take  some  cigarettes,  flowers,  chewing  gum,  etc., 

79 


80  THE  BIG  SHOW 

out  to  the  boys;  they  did  not  say  so,  but  I  am  sure 
they  did  not  care  about  taking  the  responsibility  of 
what  might  happen  if  I  sang  to  the  poor  dears. 

However,  we  went — Mother  took  all  the  things 
people  take  to  the  wounded — and  I  took  the  broad- 
est grin  I  could  produce — a  grin  which  at  first  was 
not  quite  understood  by  the  nurses,  but  they  got 
used  to  it  in  time. 

They  were  so  crowded  at  the  hospital  that  our 
poor  boys  were  lying  in  the  halls,  and  in  fact  all 
over  the  place. 

I  did  not  think  to  put  on  a  hospital  face,  which 
is  that  sort  of  "  My  poor  boy,  where  were  you 
wounded?"  expression,  and  I'm  afraid  I  was  per- 
haps a  bit  dressy.  I  remember  thinking  I  was 
looking  quite  well.  So  when  I  bounded  up  to  some 
very  busy  nurses,  and  said  I  wanted  to  work  in 
the  wards  I  don't  think  they  quite  understood  my 
idea  of  "  working ''  in  a  ward.  Luckily  the  first 
nurse  who  listened  to  my  plea  stuck  her  head 
in  the  door  of  a  ward  which  was  filled  with  boys 
who  had  sung  with  me  and  laughed  with  me  a 
month  before  "  somewhere  up  front,"  and  when  she 
said,  "  Boys,  would  yon  like  to  see  Miss  Elsie 
Janis?  "  she  was  answered  by  a  mixture  of  yells 
that  I  am  sure  were  never  heard  before  in  a  hos- 
pital. Of  course  my  eyes  filled  with  tears  of  genu- 
ine pride.  You  see,  it  was  a  crucial  moment  for  me, 
for  if  they  had  not  done  that,  my  hospital  career 


NEUILLY  AND  OUR  BOYS  81 

might  have  ended  then  and  there,  and  oh!  what  a 
lot  of  real  joy  I  would  have  missed. 

I  did  not  stop  to  look  at  the  nurse's  expression, 
but  I'm  sure  she  thought  I  was  the  paymaster  of 
the  Army. 

We  went  in.  They  all  said,  "  Hello,  Elsie,  and 
hello,  Mother!" 

There  was  not  a  man  there  who  did  not  have 
one  or  two  limbs  in  the  air,  all  hung  up  on  what 
I  called  gymnasium  stuff,  with  that  marvelous 
drainage  system  of  the  more  marvelous  Dr.  Carrel 
which  has  saved  hundreds  of  lives  in  this  War. 

We  laughed  and  even  sang.  I  told  them  all  my 
new  stories  and  sang  anything  they  asked  for,  and 
felt  really  useful  to  humanity  for  the  first  time  in 
my  life. 

When  we  came  out,  the  word  had  gone  around 
that  we  were  there  and  there  was  a  bevy  of  nurses 
saying,  "  Oh,  Miss  Janis,  do  come  into  my  ward, 
the  boys  know  you  and  are  asking  for  you." 

That  first  day  I  went  into  seven  wards  and  found 
more  dear  friends  than  I  ever  hoped  to  have.  It 
would  be  foolish  to  say  that  it  was  not  the  most 
difficult  work  I  ever  did  because  it's  rather  hard  to 
go  in  and  be  funny  when  your  heart  is  aching  at  the 
thought  of  so  many  wonderful  men  all  maimed,  suf- 
fering, and  some  dying.  I  am  not  very  sympathetic 
and  would  run  a  mile  rather  than  see  hlood — but 
there  were  so  many  splendid  women  there  to  sym- 


82  THE  BIG  SHOW 

pathize  that  I  was  not  needed  for  that;  so  while 
Mother,  who  is  a  past  mistress  in  that  art,  held 
boys'  heads  while  they  had  their  wounds  dressed,  I 
went  in  other  wards  and  tried  to  make  them  forget 
that  they  had  wounds.  I  could  write  pages  of  the 
bravery  of  our  men,  not  under  fire  because  that  goes 
without  saying,  but  under  real  and  terrible  pain. 
Whether  they  had  lost  one  leg  or  two,  whether  they 
would  perhaps  never  see  again,  the  smile  was  al- 
ways there  for  me  and  my  little  jokes.  I  used  to 
start  by  saying  when  I  entered  a  ward,  "Is  there 
anyone  in  great  pain  here,  because  if  there  is  I 
won't  sing,  as  I  don't  want  them  to  blame  it  on  my 
voice,"  and  in  the  three  weeks  that  I  worked  there 
every  day,  I  never  had  one  of  them  admit  that  he 
was  in  "great  pain."  I  shall  try  to  write  briefly 
some  of  the  little  sayings  of  the  boys,  but  before  I 
do  I  want  to  say  that  I  thought  I  had  seen  badly 
wounded  men  during  my  hospital  work  before,  but 
I  have  never  seen  boys  "  shot  to  pieces  "  like  those 
boys  were.    They  had  been  really  almost  too  brave. 

I  said  to  one  boy  who  was  so  swathed  in  band- 
ages that  all  I  could  see  was  one  very  nice  blue 
eye  and  the  corner  of  one  very  strong  American 
mouth,  "  Well,  old  dear,  you  certainly  got  yours, 
didn't  you?"  He  said,  "Yes,  I  did,  but  the  last 
time  I  seen  the  Germans  they  was  running  up  a 
hill." 

I  went  into  a  ward  where  a  poor  fellow  was  just 


NEUILLY  AND  OUR  BOYS  83 

coming  out  of  ether.  A  very  good-looking  Irish- 
man. He  came  to  sufficiently  to  hear  me  start  one 
of  my  best  stories  in  this  fashion :  "  An  Irishman 

was  taken  prisoner  by  the  Germans "    At  that 

he  sat  bolt  upright  in  bed  and,  glaring  at  me,  said : 
"  That's  a  blankety-blank-blank  lie.  No  Irishman 
was  ever  taken  prisoner  by  those  blankety-blank 
Germans."  I  won't  say  I  have  never  heard  such 
language,  but  it  certainly  was  not  what  I  call  polite 
hospital  chatter.  Of  course  the  other  fellows  all 
yelled  at  him  to  shut  up,  and  I  started  again — ^in 
fact  I  started  four  times — but  he  won.  So  I 
changed  and  told  one  on  an  English  Tommy,  which 
soothed  him,  he  being  an  Irishman. 

Certainly  variety  is  the  spice  of  the  American 
Army.  I  found  every  nationality  and  lots  of  them 
not  speaking  English.  How  they  ever  understood 
commands  I  can't  fathom,  but  one  thing  was  obvi- 
ous— ^they  did  not  need  to  be  told  to  advance,  and 
retreat  is  a  word  unknown. 

One  day  I  found  an  Italian  trying  to  make  his 
nurse  understand  that  he  wanted  an  orange.  I 
have  always  wondered  why  I  took  up  that  lan- 
guage ;  I  thought  it  was  because  of  a  handsome  dark- 
eyed  Latin  I  had  met  and  could  not  talk  to — but 
now  I  know  it  was  to  talk  to  that  dying  boy,  Tony, 
that  I  spent  hours  saying  ''  Jo  saro — tu  sarai — egli 
sara — noi  saremo,  etc."  I  got  the  orange  for  him 
and  we  became  such  good  friends  that  when  a  day 


84  THE  BIG  SHOW 

came  and  the  nurse  told  me  that  Tony  had  gone 
to  a  land  of  eternal  Italian  blue  skies,  I  shirked  my 
duty  and  did  not  sing  any  more  that  day. 

Of  course  the  wonderful  part  of  it  all  is  that  for 
one  Tony  who  can't  go  on  with  the  struggle,  twenty 
Jacks,  Dicks  and  Bills  get  well  and  come  home  to 
hold  their  families  spellbound  by  tales  of  when  they 
were  at  Chateau-Thierry,  and  so  on.  More  wonder- 
ful still  the  contempt  of  the  strong  for  the  weak. 
I  went  into  one  of  my  favorite  wards  one  lovely 
sunny  day.  The  boys  were  all  smiling,  but  over  in 
one  corner  was  a  bed  with  a  screen  around  it  which 
meant  that  one  of  our  brave  boys  was  "  going  west." 
I  said  "Hello I"  and  then  told  the  boys  that  I 
would  not  sing  to  them  that  day  on  account  of  the 
boy  with  the  screen.  They  grumbled  a  bit  and  I 
left ;  the  next  day  when  I  went  the  screen  was  gone 
and  I  was  greeted  with  yells  of  delight.  I'm  sure 
they  were  sorry  he  was  gone,  but  to  them,  in  their 
youth  and  enthusiasm,  death  is  only  part  of  the 
game — so  we  carried  on! 

In  that  same  ward  one  of  the  boys  had  lost  his 
left  leg — and  while  I  was  singing  he  kept  laughing 
quietly  to  himself.  So  I  said,  "  I  know  my  voice  is 
funny,  but  I  don't  think  it's  very  '  matey '  of  you 
to  laugh  like  that."  He  said,  very  apologetically, 
"  I'm  so  sorry,  Miss  Janis,  but  my  foot  that's  gone 
tickles  so  and  I  can't  scratch  it.    Do  forgive  me," 

In  two  weeks  t?  was  flying  around  the  place  on 


NEUILLY  AND  OUR  BOYS  85 

crutches  flirting  with  all  the  pretty  nurses  and  very 
cheery  because  he  had  tried  on  his  new  leg  and  it 
was  a  wonder. 

Another  boy  had  lost  an  eye  and  had  a  patch  over 
it.  I  asked  if  he  was  going  to  get  a  new  eye.  He 
said  he  was  waiting  until  he  could  get  a  bloodshot 
one  to  match  his  regular  "  lamp." 

There  were  lots  of  French  wounded  in  the  hos- 
pital and  they  are  just  like  little  children.  Our 
boys  take  everything  for  granted,  and  ask  for  what 
they  want  if  you  don't  happen  to  have  it,  which  is 
of  course  very  American,  but  to  the  French  a 
"  Good-morning  "  spoken  in  their  native  tongue  is 
enough  to  make  them  nearly  weep  for  joy.  I  used 
to  sing  them  our  popular  American  songs  which  I 
had  translated  into  French.  The  favorite  was  "  I 
don't  want  to  get  well "  which  I  am  going  to  write 
down  in  case  anyone  would  like  to  try  it  on  their 
Berlitz  Method.    Voild! 

Je  ne  veux  pas  gu^rir, 

Je  ne  veux  pas  gu^rir, 

Car  j'adore  ma  jolie  infirm^re. 

Chaque  matin,  chaque  midi  et  chaque  soir, 

Elle  m'apporte  ma  medecine  et  un  peu  d'espoir. 

Je  ne  veux  pas  gu4rir, 

Je  ne  veux  pas  gu^rir, 

Heureusement  que  je  suis  c^libataire. 

Le  docteur  dit  11  crains  pour  ma  condition. 

Mais,  grace  k  Dieu, 


86  THE  BIG  SHOW 

J'ai  encore  de  rambition. 
Je  ne  veux  pas  guerir, 
Je  ne  veux  pas  guerir, 
Car  j'adore  ma  jolie  infirm^re. 

The  French  boys  all  learned  it,  and  as  soon  as  I 
would  enter  their  ward  would  start  to  sing  it  in 
chorus.  One  of  the  most  amusing  sights  in  a  hos- 
pital in  France  is  to  see  regular  "  roughneck " 
Americans  sitting  up  in  bed,  making  baskets,  knit- 
ting, and  even  doing  embroidery  to  pass  the  time 
away. 

There  was  a  very  dressy  and  serious-minded 
nurse  in  one  ward  who  rather  resented  my  exist- 
ence. I  didn't  know  of  hers  until  one  day  when  I 
went  in,  and  over  in  a  corner  was  one  boy  in  great 
pain.  I  started  leaping  about  as  usual  and  she 
came  up  to  me  saying,  "  Do  be  a  little  careful ;  poor 
John  (pointing  to  the  sufferer)  is  in  great  pain, 
and  you  might  jar  him."  Whereupon  said  John 
lifted  his  aching  head  and  spoke  as  follows :  "  Aw ! 
leave  her  alone — she  is  the  first  real  live  thing  I've 
seen  since  I  hit  this  joint — go  to  it,  Elsie  " — and  I 
went  to  it.    Exit  Queen  Nurse,  peevishly. 

The  boys  asked  me  to  sing  everything  from  "  An- 
nie Laurie "  to  the  "  Strutters'  Ball,"  and  fortu- 
nately having  a  good  memory  I  could  usually  make 
good,  but  one  day  I  was  very  nearly  sunk.  A  very 
good-looking  boy  from  New  Orleans  who  was  very 
badly  wounded  asked  me  if  I  could  sing  "  Poor  But- 


NEUILLY  AND  OUR  BOYS  87 

terfly."  I  never  had  sung  the  song  in  my  life,  and  I 
venture  to  say  I  stand  alone  in  that.  So  I  tried 
to  put  him  off  by  saying  it  was  a  very  sad  song,  and 
he  said  it  meant  so  much  to  him. 

Memories  of  home.  So  I  told  the  other  fellows  to 
be  brave,  and  I  started,  not  knowing  what  I  was 
going  to  sing.  It  was  as  if  an  angel  from  Heaven 
had  prompted  me,  for  the  words  came  that  I  never 
realized  I  knew.  He  was  very  grateful  and  smiled. 
Twenty  minutes  later  as  I  was  leaving  he  had  his 
nurse  lift  him  up  and  he  waved  feebly  and  said, 
"  Good-by,  poor  Butterfly ! "  An  hour  later  he 
"went  west,"  and  I  am  still  thanking  that  angel 
who  made  it  possible  for  me  to  grant  his  request. 

To  the  American  soldier,  a  shave  is  one  of  the 
most  important  orders  of  the  day — and  in  the  hos- 
pital it's  rather  difficult  with  hundreds  of  them 
wanting  the  same  thing  at  once.  So  Mother  got 
some  safety  razors  and  gave  one  to  each  w^ard.  In 
my  palmiest  days  as  the  only  girl  amusing  hundreds 
of  soldiers,  I  was  never  more  popular  than  any 
one  of  those  razors.  The  boys  absolutely  fought 
for  them,  and  it  was  too  sweet  to  see  how  they 
would  doll  up,  as  they  expressed  it,  before  I  came; 
in  fact  the  only  real  grumbling  I  ever  heard  was 
not  from  the  fellow  with  an  arm,  leg  or  eye  gone, 
but  from  the  one  with  a  three  or  four  days'  growth 
of  beard — and  among  the  very  badly  wounded  the 
only  plea  was,  Will  I  be  able  to  get  back  and  get 


88  THE  BIG  SHOW 

even?  Those  three  weeks  were  about  the  happiest 
of  my  life.  I  got  to  know  the  boys  so  well — made 
many  real  friends  and  lost  a  few.  It  got  so  the 
boys  would  promise  the  nurses  not  to  make  a  fuss 
when  they  had  their  wounds  dressed  if  she  would 
promise  to  bring  Elsie  in. 

I  sang  sometimes  in  as  many  as  fifteen  wards  in 
a  day.  I  usually  had  a  good  cry  when  I  got  home, 
but  my  reward  was  in  the  fact  that  the  boys  wanted 
me — and  it  was  with  rather  a  heavy  heart  that  I 
left  them  to  go  back  to  the  Front — for  it  was  rather 
uphill  work  spurring  our  boys  on  after  I  had  seen 
the  results  of  a  victorious  battle. 

All  the  time  I  had  been  going  to  Neuilly  the 
Y.M.C.A.  had  been  trying  to  get  a  motor  pass  for 
us,  and  without  much  success  as  it  turned  out — but 
finally  they  came  and  said  that  everything  was  in 
order  and  we  were  to  start  for  Chaumont.  We 
were  very  pleased  and  we  started — but  we  did  not 
finish !  We  left  Paris  after  a  very  good  lunch,  on 
what  seemed  to  be  a  lovely  spring  day,  but  turned 
out  to  be  very  muddy.  They  gave  us  our  identifica- 
tion books,  which  we  never  thought  of  examining, 
and  explained  that  Frank  our  driver  could  not 
drive  because  he  had  no  permit,  but  he  was  to  go 
along  and  take  the  car  over  once  we  were  safely 
out  of  Paris.  We  were  in  a  Renault — driven  by 
a  rather  ancient  Frenchman,  who  had  all  that  was 
needed  in  the  way  of  passes,  etc.,  with  Frank  seated 


NEUILLY  AND  OUR  BOYS  89 

beside  him,  all  ready  to  leap  into  the  driver's  seat 
when  the  All  Clear  signal  was  given.  Mother,  Bill 
the  music  man,  and  myself  were  seated  comfortably 
in  the  limousine  trying  to  forgive  it  for  having  no 
springs.  We  had  been  told  it  was  the  car  that 
E.  H.  Sothern  had  used,  so  we  told  ourselves  that 
if  he  could  stand  the  bumps  we  could.  We  got  lost 
going  out  of  Paris — a  thing  we  had  never  yet  failed 
to  do,  either  going  out  or  coming  in,  but  we  finally 
got  under  way  and  it  looked  like  Chaumont  for  a 
late  dinner.  Alas!  it  only  looked  like  it,  and  it 
turned  out  that  we  were  all  wearing  rose-colored 
glasses. 

At  tea  time  we  eased  into  a  town  called  Provins — 
how  should  we  know  that  said  Provins  was  the 
Quartier  General  MiUtairef!  There  were  at  least 
four  other  roads  to  Chaumont — but  we  w«nt  via 
Provins.  I  was  sitting  well  back  in  my  corner 
quite  at  peace  with  the  world,  when  all  at  once  I 
saw  a  barrier  rather  like  those  Pennsylvania  toll- 
gates — across  the  road — and  a  very  warlike  person 
with  tin  hat,  bayonet  fixed,  and  all  the  other  props 
of  war  who  held  up  a  very  firm  brown  hand  and  we 
stopped.  I  tried  to  look  as  if  it  meant  nothing  in 
my  life,  and  sat  even  further  back  in  my  corner — 
trying  not  to  look  like  a  woman  ...  it  being 
"  defendu  "  to  be  a  woman  and  in  an  automobile  at 
the  same  time. 

He  examined  the  French  driver's  papers,  and 


90  THE  BIG  SHOW 

said  "  Bien!  "  We  sighed  sighs  of  relief  in  three 
different  keys  and  prepared  to  move  on,  but  no! 
he  came  to  the  door  and  said  in  the  sweetest  of 

French  tones:  "And  these  ladies ???!     Their 

papers." 

"  Oh  yes,  certainly,"  said  I,  while  Mother  fumbled 
in  her  bag  for  them.  I  tried  to  make  conversation 
with  the  gentleman,  but  his  eyes  were  on  Mother's 
bag.    Even  then  I  was  quite  calm. 

Out  came  the  Carnet  d'etranger — little  red-books 
— that  look  like  nothing,  but  really  keep  you  from 
spending  most  of  your  spare  time  in  jail. 

Mother  handed  them  out  with  a  sort  of  "  Poor 
snoopy  boob  "  expression,  and  we  all  sat  back.  He 
looked  at  them  and  said :  "  Ah !  just  as  I  thought." 

About  this  time  I  began  to  think  about  how  much 
I  really  loved  Paris,  so  I  said,  "  If  everything  is  not 
in  order  we  will  go  back  to  Paris." 

"  Ah,  no,  madam,"  said  the  w^arlike  one,  "  that 
you  cannot  do.  You  must  come  to  Headquarters 
right  now — ^you  are  found  traveling  in  a  motor 
without  permission  and  are  liable  to  arrest."  I 
said,  "  But  our  books  are  in  order,"  and  then  the 
blow  fell.    "  Decidedly  not,"  he  said.    ^^  Regardez!  " 

I  looked  at  the  books  and  saw  "  Ces  dames  sonts 
permis  dialler  jusque  Chaumont  par  chemin  de  fer 
ou  a  pied."  (These  ladies  are  permitted  to  go  as 
far  as  Chaumont  by  railroad  or  on  foot. ) 

A  nice  little  eighty-mile  walk  appealed  to  me 


NEUILLY  AND  OUR  BOYS  91 

strongly  at  that  moment.  Well,  there  was  no  argu- 
ment. The  Young  Christians  had  thought  they 
could  put  something  over  on  the  French  authorities 
— ^but  they  will  have  to  sit  up  all  night  let  alone 
get  up  early  before  that  happens. 

We  went  to  the  "gave"  where  a  crowd  of  vil- 
lagers gathered  around  us.  I  must  say  I  never 
felt  more  dangerously  important.  I  began  to  feel 
like  the  spy  who  was  condemned  to  be  shot  at  sun- 
rise and  said,  "  But  I  never  get  up  till  ten." 

After  waiting  about  half  an  hour,  while  the 
French  driver  went  in  to  explain  things,  in  his 
own  sweet  way,  by  saying  that  he  knew  nothing 
about  us,  he  had  been  ordered  to  drive  us  to  Chau- 
mont  and  he  was  doing  it,  he  finally  came  back  with 
what  we  gleaned  was  the  Boss  of  Provins.  He  had 
one  of  those  French  ostermoor  face-fittings  that  are 
only  used  in  America  to  get  a  laugh  when  the  show 
is  dragging,  but  in  France  are  used  in  the  best 
families.  I  think  to  hide  the  neckties  that  the  wife 
gives  them  for  Christmas ;  but  above  the  edge  were 
shining  two  of  the  most  snappishly  human  blue 
eyes  mine  ever  met.  Hope  revived!  So  I  took  the 
center  of  the  stage — he  was  quite  firmly  charming, 
and  informed  me  that  the  driver  and  the  car  were 
to  go  to  Chaumont — the  two  gentlemen  could  go 
to  Chaumont  by  train — as  their  passes  read — or 
return  to  Paris — hut  the  ladies  were  to — return  to 
Paris  at  once.    The  train  would  leave  in  two  hours 


92  THE  BIG  SHOW 

and  that  the  ladies  were  very  lucky  to  be  allowed  to 
go,  as  they  really  should  go  to  the  local  Sing  Sing. 
It  was  decided  that  all  the  culprits  would  return  to 
Paris,  but  in  the  meantime  the  French  would  cer- 
tainly have  to  answer  to  the  U.  S.  Army,  two  thou- 
sand of  which  were  waiting  in  Chaumont  to  be 
sung  to  by  the  "  super  spy,"  Mile.  Elsie  Janis !  It 
was  all  very  funny,  but  on  the  other  hand  rather 
tragic.  We  had  eight  bags,  rugs,  cushions  and 
other  "  spy -like  "  props.  The  French  driver  was 
made  to  put  them  all  out  as  if  they  had  the  measles 
and  beat  it  to  Chaumont. 

By  this  time  the  villagers  were  all  but  taking  our 
coat  buttons  for  souvenirs.  We  were  shown  a 
little  hostel  across  the  way  by  the  bearded  blue-eyed 
wonder,  where  we  could  dine.  We  did  and  ate  some 
nice  well-meaning  horse,  camouflaged  as  a  steak. 
When  it  came  near  train  time  the  police  came  for 
us  and  we  were  escorted  to  the  comic  train  by  them, 
put  into  a  carriage,  our  bags  piled  in  on  top  of  us 
and  handed  our  various  papers.  On  every  one  was 
written  "  Found  in  an  automobile  without  permis- 
sion "  and  everything  else  on  them  canceled.  I 
made  a  speech  from  the  carriage  door  to  the  Boss  of 
Provins  and  all  his  staff,  telling  them  that  I  did  not 
blame  them  but  that  inside  of  two  weeks  we  would 
come  back  to  Provins  with  a  blue  passe — just  to 
prove  we  had  not  been  shot  at  sunrise  or  any  other 
time.    We  pulled  out  and  left  them  standing  with 


NEUILLY  AND  OUR  BOYS  93 

"  What  a  pity — so  young  and  yet  so  false  "  expres- 
sion lurking  under  their  beards  and  to  add  insult  to 
injury  they  all  yelled  "'  Bonne  chance!  " 

I  suppose  they  meant  they  hoped  death  would  be 
instantaneous.  I've  never  met  such  a  weak-minded 
train.  Its  idea  was  to  go  to  Paris,  but  it  stopped 
for  advice  every  five  minutes  and  after  about  an 
hour  of  uncertainty  stopped  for  good  and  decided 
not  to  go  at  all.  A  guard  yelled  "  Changez  pour 
Paris! "  so  out  we  had  to  bundle  with  all  the  bags, 
rugs — and  dog,  for  whom  we  had  been  forced  to  buy 
a  first -class  ticket.  We  got  on  a  "  leave  "  train  full 
of  undoubtedly  the  bravest  but  absolutely  the  dirti- 
est soldiers  I  ever  saw.  It  took  us  four  hours  to 
do  in  that  imitation  train  what  it  had  taken  us 
fifty-seven  minutes  to  do  in  our  illicit  automobile. 

We  arrived  in  Paris  just  in  time  to  hear  the 
sirens  announcing  what  turned  out  to  be  about  the 
worst  raid  we  ever  had,  but  death  had  no  terrors 
for  us  after  Provins.  So  we  went  to  the  hotel.  On 
arrival  Mother  and  I  were  both  just  about  two 
inches  away  from  hysterics.  We  have  been  arrested 
several  times  for  speeding  in  America,  but  that 
was  in  peace-time.  Even  then  I  never  craved  it  as 
a  pastime,  but  take  it  from  one  who  knows  being 
arrested  in  France — in  war-time — by  people  who 
though  they  are  charming  give  no  clue  by  their  ges- 
tures or  intonations  whether  they  are  going  to  kill 
you  or  kiss  you — is  an  experience  that  I  would  not 


94  THE  BIG  SHOW 

even  wish  on  the  Kaiser.  I  have  been  known  to 
wish  they  would  hang  him,  but  then  hanging  is  so 
nice  and  speedy. 

We  crawled  into  bed  that  night  vowing  all  sorts 
of  vows  to  be  revenged  on  the  Young  Christians 
come  what  might,  but  I  evidently"  got  ofif  the  track, 
for  I  dreamed  that  I  was  a  real  spy  and  had  lured 
the  Crown  Prince  of  Germany  to  supper  with  me. 
I  was  to  fascinate  him  and  then  stab  him  with  the 
butter  knife — but  he  walked  into  the  room  and 
going  directly  to  the  table  removed  all  the  cutlery ; 
he  had  evidently  read  that  book,  too! 

The  next  morning  the  Y.M.C.A.  called  up  to  say 
that  they  were  so  sorry — it  had  all  been  a  mis- 
understanding. We  knew  that,  but  we  felt  we  were 
more  misunderstood  than  misunderstanding,  and 
agreed  to  call  off  our  feud  with  the  Y.M.C.A. 
and  pick  on  our  allies,  the  French — not  because 
we  did  not  like  them  but  because  we  did  not  like 
their  not  liking  us.  So  we  decided  to  tell  our 
troubles  to  a  policeman  and  told  them  to  the 
one  who  had  some  force  under  him,  our  Boss  Gen- 
eral, who  from  that  time  took  us  under  his  very 
splendid  American  eagle  wings  and  made  the  rest 
of  our  stay  in  France  one  long  winding  French 
road  of  roses. 


NEUILLY  AND  OUR  BOYS  95 


BLIND  • 

"  Blind !  and  these  poor  old  eyes  of  mine 

That  never  missed  a  thing 

Have  done  their  bit 

And  never  again  will  feel 

That  sudden  sting 

That  comes  from  holding  back  a  tear 

Or  reading  a  bit  too  much. 

Well,  at  least  they  left  me  one  thing 

A  d n  good  sense  of  touch. 

"  Blind  I  and  these  poor  old  eyes  of  mine 
That  some  folk  said  were  blue — ^^and  others 

green — 
You're  finished — that's  the  end  of  you, 
And  never  again  will  you  declare  a  coat  is 

badly  cut, 
We  will  just  be  sure  that  it  feels  OK 
And  keep  our  old  mouth  shut. 
Blind !  well  of  course  it's  rotten 
And  it's  going  to  be  hard  as  hell 
To  meet  a  pal 

And  not  be  able  to  say  he's  looking  well. 
But  then  again  there  is  one  thing — 
I  shall  never  know  the  pain 
Of  being  embarrassed  and  murmuring 
'  By  Jove !  it  looks  like  rain.' 


•  Having  been  two  years  over  there,  and  singing  nearly  every 
day  for  wounded  in  England  and  meeting  many  blinded  in  this 
war,  I  vrrite  this.     It  is  typical  of  the  men  I've  met. 


96  THE  BIG  SHOW 

"  Blind!    The  man  who  has  lost  his  arms 

Says,  '  Thank  God,  I  have  my  eyes  I ' 

But  this  one  reaches  out  in  the  dark 

And  touching  her  hand  cries, 

'  As  long  as  those  fingers  cling  to  mine 

As  long  as  I  feel  the  pain 

When  they  leave,  and  the  joy  when  they  come, 

I  shall  not  complain.' 

My  love  is  now  unending,  for  I  shall  always  see 

Her  face  as  it  looked  by  the  garden  gate  when 

she  said  good-by  to  me. 
I  shall  not  know  when  she's  fading, 
Her  voice  will  be  ever  of  gold. 
Her  hair  will  be  soft — like  new-spun  silk; 
I  shall  never  know  her  old 
As  long  as  she  stands  beside  me 
Not  weeping — laughing  instead, 
As  long  as  my  lips  can  find  her  own. 
Thank  God  I  I  am  blind  and  not  dead ! " 


CHAPTER  VI 

We  Join  the  A.E.F.  and  Meet  the  Boss 
OF  Same 

A  FTER  being  virtually  spanked  and  sent  home 
/-%  by  the  French  military  authorities,  one 
would  think  we  might  have  been  a  bit  sub- 
dued. I  must  say  Mother's  ardor  was  absolutely 
drenched,  but  I  felt  more  warlike  than  ever,  and 
decided  to  start  a  first-class  offensive  all  on  my 
own.  So  while  the  Y.M.C.A.  were  busy  trying  to 
wring  apologies  from  the  French  officials,  I  put  up 
my  barrage  in  the  form  of  a  telegram  to  G.H.Q.,  ad- 
dressed to  Colonel  C,  the  Boss  General's  aide,  who 
had  been  very  nice  to  us  at  Chaumont  and  who  had 
spoken  in  glowing  terms  of  my  work  for  the  boys. 
I  sent  the  following  telegram :  "  If  you  consider  my 
work  for  the  soldiers  of  any  value,  will  you  please 
tell  the  French  military  authorities — we  cannot  get 
motor  pass.  Have  got  the  car,  driver  and  gasoline, 
and  still  cannot  move.    Elsie  Janis." 

The  next  day  when  we  came  back  from  a  visit 
to  the  hospital,  we  found  a  U.  S.  Army  sergeant 
waiting  for  us.  He  presented  us  with  an  American 
Army  movement  order — just  like  regular  soldiers 

97 


98  THE  BIG  SHOW 

have  and  a  telegram  saying  that  everything  would 
be  done  to  facilitate  our  getting  to  Chaumont, 
where  the  boys  were  anxiously  awaiting  my  return. 
Perhaps  I  did  not  feel  important,  but  it's  more 
likely  that  I  felt  rather  too  large  for  our  apart- 
ment and  could  not  have  made  any  one  of  my  hats 
go  on  my  head.  The  pass  read  we  were  to  move 
either  by  motor  or  train,  and  just  as  I  was  rehears- 
ing in  my  mind  what  I  would  say  to  the  Bearded 
Boss  of  Provins  when  we  sailed  through  his  domain, 
the  telephone  rang  and  Miss  Janis  was  wanted  by 
American  Headquarters.  By  this  time  my  chest 
was  out  so  far  it  was  difficult  to  talk  over  the 
'phone,  but  I  managed  to  hear  from  Colonel  C.  that 
they  had  a  G.H.Q.  car  for  our  use,  that  they  would 
send  it  for  us  if  we  so  desired,  or  if  we  cared  to 
come  up  by  train  it  would  meet  us.  After  Provins 
and  various  other  vain  attempts  to  leave  Paris  by 
motor,  a  train  looked  very  good  to  us — at  least 
trains  can't  be  told  to  turn  around  and  go  home. 
So  we  said  we  would  leave  next  morning,  and  we 
did — and  said  farewell  to  our  chauffeur  and  the 
Young  Christian  Packard  at  the  station  and  got  on 
the  train  with  the  entire  French  Army.  I  never 
saw  so  many  medals  in  my  life.  The  train  left  at 
eight  a.m.  and  the  sun  looked  rather  dazzled  by 
those  shining  medals.  The  train  was  carrying  just 
twice  as  many  people  as  it  could  seat,  and  there 
was  only  one  other  woman  on  it  besides  Mother 


WE  JOIN  THE  A.E.F.  99 

and  myself.  The  corridors  were  full  of  charming 
bright-eyed  officers,  standing  from  Paris  to  Chau- 
mont,  four  hours  and  a  half.  That  is  my  idea  of 
war  such  as  Sherman  never  saw.  I  never  can  eat 
at  eight  in  the  morning — my  inner-man  does  not 
come  to  until  ten,  so  with  gi'eat  forethought  we 
reserved  places  for  the  first  service  of  lunch  at 
eleven. 

If  I  had  ever  had  any  doubts  about  the  French 
as  fighters  they  would  have  been  dispelled  by  that 
first  big  advance  on  the  "  wagon  restaurant."  We 
were  among  the  first  "  over  the  top,"  as  by  eleven 
my  inner-man  was  wide  awake  and  ready  for  the 
attack. 

Two  heavily  be-medaled  officers  occupied  and 
helped  us  to  hold  our  position  against  all  attacks. 
One  of  the  strangest  things  about  Anglo-Saxons  in 
a  strange  land  is  that  they  nearly  always  think  that 
they  are  the  only  ones  in  that  land  intelligent 
enough  to  speak  two  or  three  different  languages 
and  immediately  begin  to  talk  about  our  neigh- 
bors in  English.  Mother  and  I  were  just  about  to 
do  it,  when  one  of  the  medal  swingers  leaned  over 
and  said  in  about  the  most  perfect  English  I've 
ever  heard — "  Pardon  me,  but  are  you  not  Miss 
Elsie  Janis?  " 

A  thrill  ran  right  up  my  back  and  'buttoned 
around  my  neck.  I  thought  we  were  "  pinched  " 
again.    I  was  just  about  to  reply  in  French  that 


100  THE  BIG  SHOW 

I  did  not  speak  English,  when  Mother,  with  no 
sense  of  shame  and  apparently  ready  to  die  game, 
said,  "  Yes  I    This  is  Miss  Janis." 

"  Ah !  "  said  he.  **  I  thought  I  could  not  be  mis- 
taken. The  last  time  I  saw  you  (I  trembled  and 
wondered  if  it  could  be  the  man  from  Provins 
without  the  comic  face-fitting)  was  at  the  Century 
Theater,  New  York." 

Mother  and  I  sighed  in  a  perfect  harmony  of 
relief,  and  ordered  a  bottle  of  vin  rouge  on  the 
strength  of  the  fact  that  the  Century  was  all  he 
had  against  us.  We  chatted  through  lunch  and 
then  said  Au  revoir.  War  certainly  has  killed  con- 
ventions. 

Mother  and  I  picked  up  acquaintances  all  over 
the  place,  and  I  don't  ever  expect  to  stop  doing  it. 
Why  shouldn't  we  speak  to  people  if  we  like  their 
looks?  Life  is  so  short  and  we  might  never  see 
them  again.  I  went  out  one  day  in  a  little  town  in 
France  to  buy  Mother  a  birthday  present.  An 
American  soldier  on  a  motor  bike  with  a  side-car 
came  along  beside  me,  and  in  his  best  Army  French 
said,  '^  Bonn  jouer,  Mademoiselle,"  and  pointing  to 
the  side-car — "  Youlez-vous  allezf  " — and  I  said, 
"Where  did  you  get  that  stuff?     I'm  American." 

No  whiz-bang  ever  gave  him  a  shock  compared  to 
that  one.  His  mouth  literally  fell  open  as  I  con- 
tinued, "  My  name  is  Janis — Elsie  Janis." 

He  looked  blank,  and  then  said,  "  Oh,  I  don't 


WE  JOIN  THE  A.E.F.  101 

care  what  your  name  is,  but  please  excuse  me.  I 
thought  you  was  French." 

I  thanked  him  for  the  compliment  and  said  I 
was  sorry  I  could  not  go  riding.  He  saluted  as  if 
I  had  been  a  General  and  rode  away,  but  I  simply 
loved  it,  and  I  can't  help  wondering  if  some  day 
when  we  are  both  old  he  won't  tell  his  grand- 
children of  the  day  he  "  picked  up  Elsie  Janis  the 
actress  on  the  streets  of  N.  in  the  great  War." 

Maybe  by  that  time  he  will  have  heard  the  name. 
That's  the  only  "  pick  up  "  I  ever  slipped  over  on 
Mother.  She  is  really  a  much  better  picker  than  I 
am.  All  this  is  irrelevant,  but  forgive  me,  I  do  so 
enjoy  living  over  every  minute  that  I  write,  that 
my  Waterman  "  ad  libs  ■'  a  bit  now  and  then. 

To  get  back  to  our  "  moutons"  We  arrived  at 
Chaumont  at  one.  We  were  met  at  the  station  by  a 
great  big  khaki-colored  Cadillac  eight — and  an 
officer  who  took  us  to  the  hotel. 

This  time  there  was  no  doubt  about  our  impor- 
tance in  the  eyes  of  the  hotel  personnel.  Before, 
when  we  were  in  Chaumont,  I  think  they  thought 
we  were  sort  of  traveling  minstrels — who  were 
ambitious  and  by  way  of  taking  it  out  on  the  poor 
soldiers,  but  this  time  we  arrived  in  an  Army  car 
with  a  Headquarters  sign  on  its  front  and  back. 
They  could  not  miss  it,  and  so  they  practically 
carried  us  in  and  up  to  our  rooms — this  time  on 
the  first  floor,  but  also  on  the  courtyard  where  every 


102  THE  BIG  SHOW 

morning  at  six  the  French  waitresses  put  up  a 
creeping  barrage  of  light  French  conversation  that 
made  any  air  raid  sound  like  an  old-fashioned 
lullaby. 

In  the  afternoon  Colonel  C.  and  Colonel  M.  C.  C. 
came  to  see  us,  and  say  that  everything  was  going 
to  be  very  easy  for  us  from  then  on.  That  we  were 
to  dine  with  some  of  the  Boss  General's  staff  and 
then  the  Boss  himself  would  like  us  to  come  out  to 
see  him  in  the  evening. 

I  have  met  Kings,  Queens,  Princes,  Presidents, 
artists,  burglars  and  theatrical  managers  without 
a  tremor,  but  I  must  say  I  was  rather  sort  of — well 
— a  kind  of  in  a  way  a  trifle — more  or  less — oh,  well ! 
what's  the  use  I  was  scared  stiff  I  I  don't  remember 
dinner  at  all,  but  I  do  remember  that  on  the  way 
out  to  the  General's  chateau  ( Oh  yes !  even  he  had 
one)  I  kept  thinking — "  Just  suppose  he  don't  like 
me — he  could  just  bat  one  eyelash  and  we  would 
return  to  Paris  and  perhaps  America  '  a  pied  '  as 
the  French  said  we  could  do,  as  far  as  they  were 
concerned." 

I  have  always  liked  our  General's  looks  and  have 
loved  that  strong  "  take  it  or  leave  it "  expression 
of  his,  but  until  I  talked  to  him  I  did  not  realize 
what  it  was  that  made  all  his  men  feel  as  they  did 
about  him.  They  did  not  fear  him,  and  they  did 
not  love  him,  in  the  soft  sort  of  way  one  loves  peo- 
ple who  are  older  and  have  done  great  things.    He 


WE  JOIN  THE  A.E.F.  103 

has — and  is — their  boss  "  Black  Jack  " — and  they 
are  for  him — from  the  training  camp  where  they 
learn  to  hold  a  gun  to  the  hospital  where  perhaps 
they  learn  that  they  will  never  hold  another.  When 
we  went  in  he  called  me  "  Elsie  "  and  said,  "  I  sup- 
pose I  may  be  allowed  to  do  that,  as  all  the  men 
do." 

I  wanted  to  say,  "  Call  me  anything  you  like, 
Jack,  I  will  come  at  top  speed,"  but  I  only  said 
"  Oh  yes,  sir." 

Then  someone  suggested  that  I  should  sing  him 
a  song  as  he  had  been  away  when  I  trouped  in 
Chaumont  and  had  to  leave  again  next  day  for 
some  front.  I  hated  the  idea  and  felt  very  much  like 
I  felt  when  as  "  Little  Elsie  "  Mother  had  me  do  my 
imitations  in  a  well-known  manager's  office,  but  I 
told  a  story  and  the  lid  was  off.  Mother  had  to 
stop  me — I  was  so  carried  away  by  that  big  man's 
laugh  I  could  have  gone  on  forever.  When  I  had 
finished,  he  said,  "  Elsie,  when  you  first  came  to 
France  someone  said  you  were  more  valuable  than 
a  whole  regiment — then  someone  raised  it  to  a 
division,  but  I  want  to  tell  you  that  if  you  can  give 
our  men  this  sort  of  happiness  you  are  worth  an 
Army  Corps." 

I  said,  "  Well,  General,  you  ought  to  know  your 
own  Army." 

Before  we  left  he  told  me  that  I  was  to  go  any- 
where that  I  wanted  to  where  there  were  American 


104  THE  BIG  SHOW 

troops.  I  don't  expect  to  ever  feel  as  proud  again. 
I  don't  know  that  I  ever  want  to — I  would  prefer  to 
keep  that  one  time  stored  in  my  memory  box. 

I  arrived  home  with  a  snug  comfy  feeling  in  my 
heart.  I  had  passed  my  exams  and  had  made  good. 
I  was  a  regular  soldier  and  my  day  was  complete. 

I've  neglected  to  say  that  I  did  manage  to  see 
the  chateau  as  we  were  leaving.  I  was  too  nervous 
to  do  so  when  we  were  arriving.  It  was  a  lovely 
place,  and  the  one  thing  that  sticks  in  my  rather 
hazy  impression  of  it  all  was  the  fact  that  grazing 
all  over  the  meadows  around  the  chateau  were 
crowds  of  snow-white  cows — I  had  never  seen  a 
chorus  of  snow-white  cows  before,  and  I  must  say 
that  in  the  twilight  they  looked  absolutely  naked 
and  unashamed — a  flock  of  bovine  September 
Morns — chewing  as  unconcernedly  as  if  there  was- 
n't a  war  on — but  now  that  I  think  of  it  from  my 
slight  acquaintance  with  cows  they  can't  have  any 
sense  of  shame  or  they  w^ould  not  stand  for  lots 
of  things  that  they  do  stand  for. 

For  the  next  ten  days  we  made  Chaumont  our 
headquarters,  and  from  there  we  dashed  all  over 
the  country  to  camps  sometimes  as  far  as  two  hun- 
dred kilometers  away — places  where  there  was  no 
accommodation  for  ladies  or  actresses. 

So  we  always  came  back  to  the  Hotel  de  France 
and  the  chatty  waitresses.  I  did  not  get  much 
sleep,  but  I  had  a  grand  time.    We  had  a  regular 


WE  JOIN  THE  A.E.F.  105 

soldier  for  a  driver  and  officer  in  charge  who  gave 
us  a  tone,  and  was  very  attractive  at  the  same  time. 
I  called  him  my  aide  because  I  had  never  had  an 
aide  before.  I  think  I  will  get  one  after  the  War. 
There  will  be  a  lot  of  good-looking  aides  looking 
for  some  one  to  aid,  I'm  thinking. 

It  was  very  amusing  to  see  the  soldiers  along  the 
roads.  When  they  saw  the  Headquarters  car  com- 
ing, they  would  stand  at  attention  and  salute — then 
as  we  passed  them  they  would  see  who  it  was  and 
the  very  stiff  salute  would  change  into  a  most  in- 
formal wave  of  the  hand.  By  that  time  they  had  all 
heard  that  we  were  in  that  neighborhood,  and  every- 
where I  went  the  boys  would  yell,  "  Hello,  Elsie, 
give  us  a  show." 

Many  a  time  we  stopped  where  some  of  them 
were  working  on  railroads  or  building  camp  huts 
and  I  told  them  some  stories.  Here  is  one  I 
picked  up. 

An  American  machine  gunner  having  fired  about 
five  rounds  stood  up,  stretched  himself  and  yelled 
over  to  the  German  lines,  "  Now,  Mr.  Kaiser,  count 
your  men." 

For  details  of  my  one-night  stands  around  Chau- 
mont,  I  will  quote  my  old  reliable  friend  Diary ! 

Saturday. 
Lunched  at  hotel.     Went  out  to  the  hospital, 
gave  shows  in  eight  wards  and  one  in  the  big  hut. 


106  THE  BIG  SHOW 

Went  to  see  Colonel  H.,  who  is  laid  up  out  there. 
He  says  his  colored  soldiers  have  done  very  well 
and  lots  of  them  have  been  given  the  Croix  de 
Guerre  by  the  French,  who  think  they  are  splendid. 

Picked  up  a  good  story  about  them. 

A  big  brown  buck  private  was  out  in  a  shell  hole 
carefully  covering  up  three  very  dead  Germans, 
having  removed  everything  that  would  come  off. 
He  is  crooning  as  he  works  and  singing  "  You 
shall  be  free,  oh,  Mona — ^you  shall  be  free."  A 
Captain  yells  at  him,  "  Hey  there,  Mose,  stop 
that  singing,  the  Germans  will  hear  you  and  they 
will  come  over."  Mose  yells  back,  "  Dey  been  over, 
Captain,  and  dey  done  gone  home. — You  shall  be 
free,  etc." 

Came  home  to  dinner — changed  and  went  to 
Headquarters,  an  enormous  enclosed  square  with 
buildings  all  around  it.  Gave  the  show  in  the 
middle  of  the  square  on  a  big  motor  truck — ^all 
decorated  with  flags — about  two  thousand  men. 
It  was  very  windy,  and  my  pleated  skirt  started 
doing  a  splendid  imitation  of  a  Handley-Page  tak- 
ing off.  I  banked  and  fell  into  a  vrille  to  the  back 
of  the  truck  and  put  on  a  lot  of  ballast  in  the  shape 
of  a  good  old-fashioned  safety  pin  fastened  firmly 
between  my  not  too  unshapely  but  decidedly  thin 
"  twigs." 

The  boys  were  so  nice  about  it — in  fact  every 
day  over  here  I  am  convinced  that  the  American 


WE  JOIN  THE  A.E.F.  107 

soldier's  attitude  towards  women  is  one  of  the  most 
glorious  things  in  the  war. 

Stopped  at  the  officers'  Y.M.C.A.  club  on  the 
way  home — a  charming  place  with  charming  women 
doing  everything  in  their  power  to  make  it  like 
home.  Some  day  someone  with  the  powers  of  de- 
scription of  Hugo,  Balzac,  Dickens  and  a  few  others 
will  try  to  describe  the  splendid  work  done  by  the 
Y.M.C.A. 

Czar  of  Russia  assassinated. 

Very  tired  tonight — not  the  Czar — myself. 

Sunday. 

Left  Chaumont  at  eleven — went  to  Neufch^teau 
to  lunch  with  some  officers  in  a  charming  old 
French  house — an  old  Frenchwoman  keeps  house 
for  them  who  was  two  years  in  a  French  town 
taken  by  the  Germans;  she  can  put  more  feeling 
into  these  two  words  "sale  hoche"  than  anyone 
I've  met  so  far. 

Went  on  to  Bazoilles — Johns  Hopkins  Hospital 
— a  return  engagement. 

They  have  a  full  house  now  and  are  rushed  to 
death. 

Sang  in  seven  wards — and  gave  one  show  in  the 
Y.  hut.  Dashed  back  to  NeufchAteau — had  dinner 
and  gave  a  show  there  also  in  Y.  hut.  Otto  K.,  dis- 
tinguished visitor  from  America,  was  there — also 
F.  P.  A.  of  New  York  Tribune  fame. 


108  THE  BIG  SHOW 

Mr.  K.  said  he  liked  me  better  in  the  work  I  am 
doing  than  anything  I  have  ever  done.  I  was 
pleased.  Think  when  we  get  home  I  will  try  to 
start  another  war  just  to  show  the  folks  what  kind 
of  a  war  actress  I  am. 

Came  back  to  Chaumont  and  a  hot  bath — I'm 
sure  the  French  must  think  the  two  best  things  we 
Americans  do  are  taking  baths  and  collecting  sou- 
venirs. 

Some  Allied  soldiers  who  were  discussing  what 
the  different  countries  were  fighting  for  summed  it 
up  in  this  way : 

England  for  the  Sea, 

France  for  Alsace-Lorraine, 

Italy  for  Trieste, 
and  the  Americans  for  souvenirs. 

So  far  we've  not  met  a  doughboy  who  didn't 
have  a  German  helmet.  It's  nice  to  think  there  are 
so  many  German  dead  heads  about. 

Monday. 

Lunched  here  and  then  started  for  Gondrecourt 
— arrived  at  four-thirty  and  found  I  was  scheduled 
for  three-thirty.  Most  of  the  fellows  had  given  me 
up,  but  we  blew  bugles  and  soon  had  about  fifteen 
hundred  of  them  back  on  the  job. 

Dined  with  the  Colonel  and  then  went  on  to 
Houdelaincourt  for  one  show  and  Dainville  for  an- 
other.   The  latter  in  a  boxing  ring.     If  I  keep  on 


WE  JOIN  THE  A.E.F.  109 

playing  in  rings  and  getting  used  to  four-sided 
audiences  I  shall  not  be  satisfied  in  America  with 
anything  less  than  Madison  Square  Garden  to  play 
in — and  Jess  Willard  had  better  look  out. 

Got  lost  coming  home,  and  after  riding  at  about 
fifty  kilos  an  hour  for  an  hour  found  we  were  on 
the  road  to  Toul,  absolutely  the  opposite  direction 
from  Chaumont. 

Got  home  finally  at  2  a.m.  all  in. 

Tuesday. 

Left  Chaumont  at  twelve  for  Langres,  where  they 
have  a  law  that  no  American  soldier  can  get  any- 
thing to  eat  after  one-thirty.  Past  experiences  have 
taught  us  that  the  word  "Why?"  with  point  of 
interrogation  is  not  being  used,  so  we  ordered  lunch 
while  Lieutenant  W.  hustled  over  to  the  Provost 
Marshall  and  got  a  permit  to  eat. 

Went  to  the  largest  supply  base  in  France— 
Is-sur-Tille — again  I  don't  know  why  it's  Is-sur- 
Tille — because  I  did  not  see  said  River  Til,  but  I 
did  see  five  thousand  engineers,  and  hear  them. 
There  were  at  least  a  thousand  who  could  not 
get  in. 

I  was  furious,  but  could  not  give  another  show, 
as  I  was  booked  further  along  the  road  at  Dijon, 
where  I  had  disappointed  them  once  before.  So 
had  to  go. 

The  show  at  Dijon  was  at  the  hospital,  where  I 


no  THE  BIG  SHOW 

found  lots  of  boys  I  had  seen  up  in  the  Toul  Sec- 
tor. Mr.  C,  head  of  the  Y.M.C.A.,  was  there,  and 
on  our  way  home  we  came  up  behind  his  big  open 
Young  Christian  Packard,  which  was  kicking  up 
more  dust  than  any  Christian  car  should  kick  up. 

So  after  a  short  but  sweet  argument  as  to  who 
owned  the  road,  we  breezed  by  and  gave  him  some 
of  the  thickest  A.E.F.  Cadillac  dust  that  ever  flew. 

I  like  Mr.  C,  he  is  a  charming  man — ^but  dust  is 
dust — and  a  Cadillac  eight  is  a  Cadillac  eight. 

We  came  back  to  Chaumont  in  two  hours — one 
hundred  and  two  kilometers. 

Bill  the  music  man  stayed  in  Dijon  for  the  night, 
so  Mother  and  I  were  alone — shaking  about  in  the 
back  of  the  car.  We  held  hands  and  sang  "  Where 
do  we  go  from  here,  Boys?  " 

Wednesday.  Paris. 
Bill  missed  his  train  from  Dijon  and  my  throat 
is  very  bad,  so  we  put  off  a  show  that  we  were  to 
give  at  Chatillon  en  route,  and  came  direct  to  Paris. 
The  American  Ambulance  are  giving  a  show  here 
for  our  boys  tomorrow,  and  Headquarters  said  I 
should  be  here,  so  we  left  Chaumont  at  two — 
stopped  at  a  place  called  Montereau  for  gas — had 
to  get  an  order  for  it  from  the  Mayor — waited  three 
hours  and  then  I  think  the  French  made  a  mistake 
and  put  in  Vin  Rouge,  for  when  we  finally  got 
started  the  car  went  about  ten  miles — ^just  far 


WE  JOIN  THE  A.E.F.  111 

enough  to  be  well  away  from  everything,  and  after 
spitting,  spluttering  and  coughing  for  about  a  mile 
died  on  us.  We  coaxed  it,  pleaded  with  it,  and  even 
pushed  it,  finally  started  it  and  did  that  seven  times 
between  Montereau  and  Paris. 

We  finally  arrived  in  five  hours  absolutely  worn 
out. 

And  this  was  to  be  a  day  of  rest. 

Did  I  say  yesterday  a  Cadillac  eight  is  a  Cadil- 
lac eight?  Well,  today  I  say  a  Cadillac  eight  is 
just  like  any  other  "jitney"  when  she  is  given 
water  with  her  gaooline. 

Paris.     The  Fourth  of  July. 

The  French  people  certainly  know  the  real  mean- 
ing of  the  word  "  F6te  "  and  they  certainly  proved 
it  today. 

The  papers  came  out  this  morning  with  the  an- 
nouncement that  there  are  one  million  Americans 
in  France  and  five  more  millions  to  come  if 
needed.  A  very  good  start  for  an  American  fete- 
day. 

Flags  everywhere — people  all  over  the  streets — 
aeroplanes  all  over  the  air  and  flying  right  over  the 
roofs  of  the  houses.  I  was  washing  my  hair  this 
morning  and  I  thought  one  of  the  aviators  was 
coming  in  to  dry  it  for  me — he  certainly  passed 
by  the  window. 

To  see  this  laughing,  screaming  mob — it  seems 


112  THE  BIG  SHOW 

almost  impossible,  and  less  than  a  month  ago  we 
were  called  to  the  'phone  early  one  morning  and 
asked  where  we  intended  to  go  if  the  Germans  came 
to  Paris!  And  that  night  we  stood  on  our  bal- 
cony and  could  plainly  see  the  flaming  of  the  big 
gnns  in  the  sky  and  hear  their  roar.  Yet  today 
people  are  lining  the  streets,  cheering  the  shock 
troops — American,  British,  French  and  others  who 
stopped  them.  Those  gray  beasts  all  dressed  up  in 
new  uniforms  for  their  trip  to  Paris.  Surely  the 
tide  has  turned  and  the  millions  of  prayers  have 
at  last  been  heard. 

All  the  war  news  is  wonderful — the  Boche  is  at 
Chateau-Thierry  today — ^and  he  could  shell  Paris 
from  there,  in  fact  everyone  has  expected  some  nice 
little  "  Hun  hate  "  to  help  make  the  day  complete — 
but  no  I  the  Hun  is  too  busy  watching  the  tan  and 
blue  figures  in  front  of  them.  They,  too,  are  ex- 
pecting something. 

We  lunched  very  gayly  at  Ambassadeurs — then 
went  to  the  hospital  and  said  "  Happy  Fourth  of 
July !  " — came  home  and  dressed  for  the  big  show 
at  Gaumont  Palace.  There  were  seven  thousand 
people  there — mostly  soldiers — all  kinds — ^but  all 
with  one  idea:  ''  Yivc  rAmcriquel  " 

Twenty-five  hundred  American  and  French 
wounded.  I  dressed  all  up  like  a  real  show  actress, 
bare  back  and  everything.  When  I  slipped  out  on 
that  enormous  stage,  my  blue  silk  knees  shook,  but 


WE  JOIN  THE  A.E.F.  113 

when  those  boys  began  to  yell  I  felt  so  sorry  for 
the  French  people  present  that  I  forgot  my  own 
troubles.  I  assure  you  the  French  clung  to  their 
chairs  in  sheer  panic.  How  could  they  know  that 
«  Atta  boy !  "  "  Oh,  you,  Elsie!  "  "  Let's  go,  Elsie!  " 
"  Three  cheers  for  Elsie  of  the  A.E.F. !  "  and  a  few 
other  wild  sentences  from  all  parts  of  the  house 
could  possibly  mean  that  the  Americans  were 
pleased — and  their  whistles  of  every  variety  and  in 
all  keys  which  is  the  greatest  sign  of  displeasure 
with  a  French  audience  I  I  could  see  them  glancing 
furtively  at  the  exits,  wondering  if  it  would  be 
better  to  die  seated  in  a  plush  orchestra  seat  or  be 
walked  on  in  the  doorway. 

I  just  let  them  yell  and  loved  it,  but  when  I 
finally  held  up  one  lily  brown  hand  they  stopped 
like  one  man!  I  told  them  that  the  Boss  General 
had  said  though  I  was  needed  by  the  men  up  at 
the  Front,  everything  must  be  done  for  those  brave 
boys  who  had  already  been  through  it  and  won 
their  laurels.  Then  they  started  again,  but  this 
time  the  French  spectators  had  heard  two  magic 
words  that  they  understood,  and  they  joined  in  the 
yells  with  fervor.  The  magic  words  were  General 
Pershing.  Some  "  Open  Sesame  "  in  France,  be- 
lieve me. 

I  sang  about  seven  songs — some  in  French — and 
then  made  them  all  sing  "  Over  Here."  Some 
thrill! 


114  ,  THE  BIG  SHOW 

After  my  "  act "  some  really  good  performers 
came  on — six  two-round  fights  and  an  exhibition  by 
Georges  C,  champion  of  Europe.  I  have  never 
thought  I  would  like  any  man  to  beat  me,  but  if 
one  could  do  so,  and  look  as  angelic  all  the  while 
as  said  G.  C,  I  might  think  about  it. 

It  was  a  wonderful  night,  and  think  of  the  work 
of  transporting  twenty-five  hundred  wounded  to 
and  from  that  place !  Of  course  if  the  "  Huns  " 
had  been  perfectly  sure  there  were  that  many 
maimed  and  helpless  there,  nothing  would  have 
prevented  them  from  dropping  a  few  bombs  on 
them — but  it  all  went  off  splendidly,  and  my  idea 
of  a  fitting  celebration  for  such  a  day. 

I  got  a  telegram  from  England  asking  me  to 
come  over  and  give  a  few  shows  for  our  fellows 
over  there — they  say  they  can't  help  it  if  they  are 
not  in  France.  So  we  will  go — but  must  first  con- 
tinue my  Chaumont  circuit  bookings. 

One  million  Americans  in  France.  Oh  dear! 
Uncle  Sam,  have  a  heart.  They  are  coming  so  fast 
I  won't  be  able  to  see  them  all.  I've  never  been 
crazy  about  myself  really,  but  now  when  I  hear  that 
this  division  up  at  that  place  wants  me — and  that 
division  at  the  other  place  wants  me — I  honestly 
wish  I  were  twins. 

What  would  Mother  do,  I  w^onder? 


WE  JOIN  THE  A.E.F.  115 


THE  MESSAGE 

God  looked  down  from  His  Great  Blue  Dome 
Into  a  dying  baby's  home, 
Where  a  mother,  weeping,  looked  on  high, 
And  cried,  "O  God!  don't  let  him  die''; 
But  God  said,  "  Courage,  do  not  cry ; 
He  is  with  Me." 

God  looked  down  on  a  prison  cell, 
Where  a  murderer  sat  in  the  throes  of  hell. 
"  O  God !  "  he  cried,  '^  grant  me  Your  reprieve ; 
I  have  scoffed  at  You,  but  now  I  believe; " 
And  God  said,  "  Ask,  and  ye  shall  receive ; 
Eely  on  Me." 

God  looked  down  on  a  house  of  shame; 
He  heard  a  woman  call  His  name. 
"O  God!"  she  cried,  "why  must  I  wait? 
Take  me  from  the  life  I  hate." 
And  God  replied,  "  It  is  not  too  late; 
Come  unto  Me." 

God  looked  down  from  His  Heaven  again 
On  a  battlefield  of  slain. 
Where  a  priest  was  standing,  cross  in  hand. 
"  Help  them,  God,"  was  his  demand ; 
And  God  replied,  "  I  understand ; 
They  are  with  Me." 

God  looked  down  from  His  Heaven  above 
And  said  to  His  children,  "  I  am  love  " ; 
But  the  War  Lords  answered, 


116  THE  BIG  SHOW 

"  Love  is  clieap ; 

We  want  power,  to  hold,  to  keep; 

What  care  we  if  women  weep?" 

And  God  replied: 

"  Good.    So  be  it.    Go  your  way, 

But  listen  well  to  what  I  say : 

As  you  would  have,  so  you  must  pay,  and 

thoroughly ; 
But  when  your  mighty  cities  fall, 
When  you  are  beaten  one  and  all, 
And  for  salvation  have  to  call, 
Come  back  to  Me." 


CHAPTER  VII 

We  Give  Provins  and  the  Bearded  One  ze  Bebg 
"  Ha  !  Ha  ! " 

THE  man  who  said  "  Revenge  is  sweet  "  knew 
nearly  as  much  about  said  revenge  as  Sher- 
man knew  about  poison  gas  and  liquid  fire 
as  used  in  our  "  smartest  •'  battles  today.    Revenge 
is  more  than  sweet.     It  is  saccharinely  superb. 

When  we  came  from  Chaumont  we  dodged 
Provins  ( the  scene  of  our  arrest  by  the  French  mili- 
taire),  as  our  Cadillac  was  running  like  an  "  epilep- 
tic "  scooter,  and  making  such  a  row  I  thought  we 
would  get  arrested  again  and  this  time  for  carrying 
concealed  arms  or  illicit  munitions,  but  after  spend- 
ing the  Fourth  in  Paris,  and  feeling  more  than 
extra  independent,  we  decided  to  return  to  Chau- 
mont via  Provins,  and  prove  to  the  authorities  as 
we  said  we  would  that  we  were  not  spies.  When 
we  drew  up  to  the  town  by  the  grande  route  de 
Paris,  and  b^  the  way  according  to  the  French  every 
road  that  leads  to  Paris  is  the  grande  route  de 
Paris — I  think  they  are  right,  but  aside  from  all 
that,  at  Provins  the  barrier  which  had  taken  the 
joy  out  of  our  lives  was  across  the  road.    The  same 

117 


118  THE  BIG  SHOW 

guard  with  the  lid,  etc.,  approached  the  car,  but 
this  time  rather  "  pussy-footedly " — as  he  had 
learned  not  to  delay  big  tan  cars  with  U.S.A.  on 
them  too  long — and  he  knew  that  when  a  khaki- 
colored  "  guy  "  with  a  strong  "  Do  you  get  me, 
Steve?"  expression  to  his  chin  leaned  out  and 
and  yelled  "  Ameercann  "  that  it  was  equivalent 
to  "  laisser  alter/'  which  in  Yank  talk  means  Let's 
go! 

So  he  approached  and  was  just  about  to  wave 
us  by,  when  I  leaned  out  and  said  ^^  Bon  jour;  I 
remember  you,"  or  words  to  that  effect,  and  then  I 
showed  him  papers  and  passes — and  passes  and 
papers  of  all  colors.  He  was  delighted  and  abso- 
lutely bowed  us  through  his  gate,  but  wait!  the 
big  scene  was  yet  to  come.  We  must  find  the 
"  bearded  one  "  and  in  all  our  various  tones  from 
bass  to  soprano  crow  over  him.  We  went  to  the 
station,  where  I  jumped  out,  ran  in  and  literally 
bearded  the  lion — in  his  ^^  gare."  I  am  sure  he  had 
thought  I  was  resting  somewhere  near  Mons.  Bolo 
Pacha,  and  was  not  glad  about  it,  for  his  face  lit  up 
at  the  sight  of  me  and  I've  never  seen  such  a  smile 
as  broke  through  that  hirsute  face-trimming  of  his. 
I  led  him  out  to  the  car  and  we  showed  him  all 
"  them  papers  "  like  they  do  in  melodrama.  On  all 
of  them  he  saw  written  "  by  command  of  General 
Pershing."  "  Ah  oui"  he  said.  ^^  Le  General  Per- 
shange  " — and  I  could  not  help  being  pleased  over 


PROVINS  GETS  ZE  BEEG  "  HA!  HA!  »      119 

th€  fact  that  he  had  heard  of  General  P.  even 
though  he  did  pronounce  the  sacred  name  with  a 
"  ge  "  as  in  orange.  I  asked  if  he  would  come  over 
to  the  little  tavern  and  have  something  to  drink. 
I  should  have  said  gargle,  as  most  of  those  French 
syrups  taste  like  gljcothymoline,  but  he  called  it 
something  else.  '^  Ah  oui,  un  aperitif,"  he  said. 
Just  as  the  British  stop  anything  from  a  wedding 
to  a  war  for  tea,  so  the  French  do  for  their  aperitif. 
It  should  be  called  imperative.  We  drank  a  lot  of 
drinks  that  reminded  one  of  Barnum  and  Bailey's, 
and  ye  good  old  "  pop."  Peanuts  were  sadly 
lacking. 

Of  course  he  said  he  always  felt  that  we  were 
all  right.  And  obviously  charming  ladies.  I 
wanted  to  say  that  we  had  noticed  how  anxious  he 
had  been  to  keep  us  in  Provins  two  weeks  before, 
but  the  victory  was  already  ours,  and  we  could  be 
generous.  So  we  bought  him  another  "  tooth- 
wash,"  and  finally  tore  ourselves  away.  He  was 
standing  on  the  very  spot  where  he  had  assisted  in 
our  arrest,  yelling  "  Vivent  les  Americains! "  We 
rolled  off  yelling  "  Vive  la  France! ",  but  he  was 
all  alone — and  his  beard  cramped  his  speed  a  bit. 

We  were  five  and  all  beardless — so  we  won — fini 
la  guerre  de  Provins! 

I  could  not  help  regretting  that  Frank,  our  own 
chauffeur,  was  not  there  to  share  our  victory  as  he 
had  shared  our  disgrace,  but  he  was  off  with  his 


X20  THE  BIG  SHOW 

young  Christian  Packard  driving  Burton  Holmes 
all  over  all  fronts.  The  French  had  no  objection  to 
B.  H.  going  anywhere  he  liked,  but  then  you  see 
Burton  H.  has  a  heard,  and  that  must  be  a  great 
bond  of  sympathy — if  you're  not  ticklish. 

We  went  on  through  to  Chaumont  that  night — 
early  to  bed — to  get  a  good  rest  before  starting  on 
what  looked  like  a  rather  busy  week.  I  went  to 
sleep  at  once,  and  dreamed  that  one  of  the  crowd 
of  "  only  men  I  ever  loved  "  had  grown  a  long 
blond  beard,  and  I  was  making  heroic  efforts  not 
to  laugh  when  he  was  saying  the  same  things  that 
used  to  thrill  me.  Oh  yes !  decidedly,  I  am  strong 
for  a  Gillette  every  time.  I  think  some  woman 
thought  of  that  famous  line  "  Safety  First " ! ! ! 

Chaumont.  Saturday. 
Got  up  quite  early  and  went  to  Chatillon. 
Through  some  blunder  they  did  not  expect  us  to 
lunch — so  we  went  to  the  little  hotel,  but  the 
dining-room  was  full  and  the  other  half  of  the 
French  army  was  waiting  to  relieve  those  who  held 
the  position — so  we  retired.  Then  we  saw  an  even 
smaller  hotel — we  went  in — ^but  I  could  hear  that 
the  dining-room  there  was  also  seeing  action.  We 
were  just  going  to  leave  when  there  appeared  from 
under  somewhere  a  British  Tommy — he  had  evi- 
dently heard  the  racket  made  by  our  faces  as  they 
fell  on  the  courtyard  when  we  thought  we  were  go- 


PROVIN8  GETS  ZE  BEEG  "  HA!  HA! "     121 

ing  lunchless.  Tommy  and  two  other  Britishers — 
one  a  sergeant  (hats  off,  please!) — were  doing 
themselves  extremely  well  in  a  small  private  room. 
I  can't  think  why  Chatillon  has  a  private  room — 
as  it  has  no  theater,  and  in  books  only  actresses  go 
to  private  rooms.  However,  Tommy  said  they 
would  gladly  vacate  said  room  for  us.  We  said 
"  Certainly  not,"  but  if  we  might  join  them?  Loud 
cries  of  "  Hear,  hear !  "  from  the  three  of  them — 
they  were  charming.  They  had  seen  me  in  London, 
but  still  they  were  charming.  I  asked  them  how 
they  liked  the  Americans  who  were  Mith  them  at 
their  aeroplane  supply  base — and  the  sergeant 
spoke  as  only  an  English  sergeant  could  speak. 

"  Well,  miss,"  he  said,  "  we're  quite  pleasantly 
surprised  in  the  Americans.  We  always  thought 
they  was  a  sort  of  *  blow'ard '  kind  of  people — but 
we  like  'em  fine — and  believe  me  I've  got  about 
sixty  men  working  over  there — but  when  I  want 
something  done,  and  done  the  same  day,  I  send  for 
an  American."    And  he  meant  it. 

One  great  thing  about  the  British — I  have  found 
that  though  they  may  at  times  freeze  us,  when 
they  do  warm  up  it's  a  nice  steady  glowing  warmth 
and  they  have  not  yet  learned  that  very  popular 
indoor  and  outdoor  sport  at  which  we  Americans 
excel — "  tossing  the  bull."  I  must  say  the  French 
are  expert  at  it.  To  hear  as  I  have  heard  an 
American  doughboy  telling  a  French  poilu  how 


122  THE  BIG  SHOW 

great  he  (the  poilu)  is — ^is  something  that  can  only 
be  approached  by  hearing  a  poilu  tell  a  doughboy 
how  he  ( the  doughboy )  has  saved  the  situation. 

When  you  have  heard  them  both — then  you  know 
that  in  "  tossing  the  bull "  those  two  nationalities — 
American  and  French — have  all  others  tied — and 
even  the  Spaniards  are  looking  for  a  new  national 
sport. 

Mother  says  lots  of  people  won't  know  what  I 
mean  by  "  tossing  the  bull " — so  in  case  there  is 
anyone  so  young  or  so  old  that  they  have  not  heard 
the  expression,  I  will  give  a  tiny  example. 

When  Big  Bertha  was  shelling  Paris — an  Ameri- 
can was  talking  to  a  Frenchman,  as  follows: 

American:  Gee!  it's  wonderful  how  they  can  hit 
the  heart  of  Paris.  One  shell  dropped  on  the  Made- 
laine. 

Frenchman:  Oh!  but,  Monsieur,  you  Americains 
are  so  wonderful — I  am  sure  you  will  soon  have  a 
gun  better  than  Bertha — in  fact,  all  you  will  ask 
for  is  an  address  and  the  shell  will  go  there ! 

That,  oh !  gentle  reader,  is  Bull ! ! !  as  tossed  a  la 
Frangais. 

By  the  time  we  had  finished  lunch,  the  Entente 
Cordiale  was  absolutely  rampant. 

We  agreed  that  America  and  England  were  two 
great  countries  and  ought  to  get  together  and  that 
it  was  a  pity  the  Americans  were  not  with  the  Brit- 
ish more  than  they  were — for  when  men  fight  and 


PROVINS  GETS  ZE  BEEG  "  HA!  HA!  "     123 

die  together  they  really  know  one  another — and 
I  have  always  found  that  when  an  Englishman  and 
an  American  really  get  to  know  one  another  it's  a 
splendid  friendship. 

After  lunch  they  had  to  get  back  on  their  job 
of  building  big  bombing  machines  which  were  to 
put  fear  into  the  hearts  of  the  Huns.  I  went  to 
my  job,  which  was  tiny  by  comparison,  but  I  often 
thought  if  I  could  put  laughter  enough  into  the 
hearts  of  our  boys,  I  might  also  be  giving  a  slap 
to  the  Huns.  A  smiling  enemy  is  much  more  dis- 
concerting than  a  frowning  one,  because  you  don't 
quite  know  whether  he  is  laughing  with  you  or  at 
you  until  you  come  into  some  dressing-station. 

At  Chatillon  I  had  the  usual  "  merry  mob  "  and 
gave  an  hour's  entertainment,  then  dashed  back  to 
Chaumont,  changed  and  went  out  in  the  opposite 
direction  to  a  little  town  called  Jonchery,  where  we 
dined  with  the  officers  of  a  munition  school. 

This  little  camp  was  charming.  Up  on  the  side 
of  a  hill — all  laid  out  with  little  duckboard  walks, 
leading  from  one  cabin  to  the  other — before  dinner 
they  took  us  into  the  schoolroom,  where  there  was 
a  blackboard — desks — benches — only  instead  of 
teaching  children  about  life  and  its  greatness,  they 
teach  men  about  death  and  its  quickness.  It  is 
hard  to  imagine  so  many  different  kinds  of  deaths 
done  up  in  so  many  different  little  insignificant 
looking  packages.    Bombs,  grenades,  guns,  bullets^ 


124  THE  BIG  SHOW 

rockets  of  every  nationality.  Those  fellows  knew 
more  about  death  than  any  undertaker.  They  had 
every  German  hell-raiser  in  existence,  and  the  coy 
names  they  had  for  them!  A  most  harmless  look- 
ing hand  grenade  called  "  the  hair  brush  " — I  sup- 
pose the  idea  is  that  once  it  hits  a  German  he  has 
no  hair  left  to  brush.  Another  called  the  "  potato- 
masher" — Well!  all  I  have  to  say  is  I'm  glad  I'm 
not  a  potato  or  a  German!  To  see  those  kind, 
smiling  Yanks  simply  gloating  over  those  horrors 
was  almost  terrible  to  me.  Fellows  who  at  home 
would  not  use  fly-paper  because  they  wouldn't  like 
to  see  the  flies  struggling — absolutely  caressing  a 
gas  bomb  that  they  knew  would  kill  everything 
within  twenty  feet.  I  did  not  try  to  figure  out 
why  or  wherefore,  because  dinner  (?)  was  an- 
nounced— and  some  dinner!  Their  passion  for 
bombs  and  grenades  had  not  spoiled  their  appe- 
tites for  chicken  and  fritters — because  they  looked 
upon  the  latter  with  the  same  glowing  eyes  they 
had  cast  upon  the  "  potato-masher." 

After  dinner  we  rode  down  to  the  "  theater," 
which  consisted  of  two  motor  trucks  up  against  a 
wall.  There  were  a  lot  of  colored  troops  there.  I 
couldn't  help  wondering  if  they  were  so  crazy  about 
bombs,  etc. 

One  of  the  officers  told  me  a  story  which  is 
apropos. 

A  colored  soldier  on  outpost  duty,  and  it  gets  a 


PROVINS  GETS  ZE  BEEG  «  HA!  HA!  "    125 

bit  thick.  So  he  comes  running  back  at  great  speed 
and  bumps  into  an  officer,  who  says,  "  Hey  I  what's 
the  idea  of  leaving  your  post  of  duty?"  Colored 
soldier  says,  "  Oh  Lord,  boss — the  shells  is  just 
raining  out  there.     One  went  right  by  my  nose." 

Officer.  "  How  do  you  know  it  was  a  shell?  did 
you  see  it?  " 

Soldier.  "  Did  I  see  it?  I  seen  it  twice — once 
when  it  passed  me — and  once  when  /  passed  it." 

We  had  a  great  time  and  they  gave  me  a  lovely 
bouquet — of  poppies,  cornflowers  and  daisies — 
forming  the  eternal  tricolor  of  France! 

I  had  only  one  personal  friend  in  that  crowd  and 
he  could  not  come — he  wrote  me  a  note  saying  how 
sorry  he  was!  I  don't  blame  him — he  was  in  the 
guardhouse.  I  wanted  to  go  to  see  him  and  sing 
him  a  song,  but  they  suggested  I  had  better  not.  It 
seems  that  the  guardhouse  is  quite  an  entertain- 
ment in  itself. 

Sunday. 

Went  to  Bourbonne  les  Bains.  It  being  Sunday, 
took  a  rest — only  one  show.  Funny  little  town — 
very  chic  watering-place — before  the  War!  The 
Casino  used  to  harbor  heavy  gamblers — ^it  now  does 
the  same  thing  to  Young  Christians! 

The  baths  used  to  cure  rheumatic  Frenchmen — 
they  now  clean  athletic  Americans — ah,  yes!  Bour- 
bonne les  Bains  has  changed. 


126  THE  BIG  SHOW 

We  went  to  the  little  hotel,  where  we  retired  to 
rest,  but  before  we  could  make  it,  down  the  street 
came  the  regimental  band  playing  "  Over  There  " 
as  if  it  was  not  Sunday  at  all.  I  gave  my  show  on 
a  tiny  stage  of  a  tiny  theater  in  the  Casino  gardens. 
And  the  entirely  family  of  Bourbonnes  were  there. 
Really,  more  French  people  than  Americans.  I 
was  not  particularly  pleased  because,  after  being 
so  happy  up  at  the  front  on  a  table  with  a  crowd 
of  grinning  doughboys  all  around  me,  I  rather 
resent  the  social  atmosphere  of  Bourbonne  les 
Bains.  However,  I  did  my  best  and  we  came  back 
to  Chaumont.  I  think  what  really  depressed  me 
was  that  all  the  Yanks  looked  so  clean — and  I  must 
admit  the  dirtier  they  are  the  more  I  love  them, 
and  the  more  they  love  me  for  loving  them  enough 
to  dance  with  them,  even  at  the  risk  of  acquiring  a 
restless  "cootie." 

Tonight  went  out  to  say  good-by  to  the  Boss 
General,  who  is  always  going  away.    Curses! 

Monday. 
A  crowd  of  wounded  arrived  today  from  one  of 
those  small  but  sure  "  pushes  "  the  Yanks  are  put- 
ting on  'most  every  day.  I  went  out  and  worked  in 
the  wards — gave  five  short  shows — came  back — put 
on  my  other  hat  by  way  of  kidding  myself  into  a 
change  of  costume — and  went  out  to  a  little  place 
that  sounds  much  prettier  than  it  looked.    La  Ville 


PROVINS  GETS  ZE  BEEG  «  HA!  HA!  "    127 

au  Bois — I  did  not  see  the  ville  or  the  l)ois,  but  I 
did  see — and  smell — and  partake  of — a  most  won- 
derful dinner  with  the  officers  of  a  famous  regi- 
ment of  engineers  who  specialize  in  putting  on 
"  hours  of  hate  "  for  the  Boche — that  is,  they  travel 
about  from  sector  to  sector,  and  when  our  people 
want  some  especially  deadly  gas  these  fellows  ar- 
rive and  put  on  a  Dillingham  production  of  "  poison 
gas  "  assorted.  I  must  say  they  did  not  look  like 
death-dealing  desperadoes,  in  the  least.  An  aw- 
fully nice  crowd.  After  dinner  we  went  over  to  the 
gas  school — where  our  fellows  learn  the  art  of 
gas  throwing — it  was  a  large  camp.  And  to  the 
right  and  left  were  comic-looking  little  cube-like 
gas  chambers — where  they  try  the  gas. 

My  idea  of  a  rotten  job  is  a  "gas  tester."  He 
dresses  all  up  in  a  gas  mask,  which  in  itself  is 
always  good  for  a  laugh  if  he  don't  smother  him- 
self trying  to  get  it  on — then  he  thinks  one  last 
thought  of  home,  mother  and  the  good  job  he  left, 
and  steps  inside  the  gas  chamber.  If  he  comes 
out  alive  it's  a  success  for  him — but  if  he  don't  the 
gas  is  good  enough  for  the  Germans — and  they 
get  it. 

There  were  lots  of  fellows  in  the  audience  who 
had  been  in  the  gas  chamber  and  came  out  with 
everything  but  their  voices — still  they  could  laugh. 

After  having  all  different  kinds  of  deadly  gas 
tried  on  you,  even  my  singing  might  be  a  relief. 


128  THE  BIG  SHOW 

As  I  was  leaving,  a  big  Army  car  arrived  with 
a  Colonel  and  a  Major  who  came  up  to  me  and 
said  that  they  had  ridden  seventy-five  miles  to  beg 
me  to  come  up  to  their  camp — where  they  were  very 
short  of  entertainment.  They  came  from  Colombey- 
les-Belles — an  aero-supply  station,  I  said  if  it  was 
worth  a  seventy-five  mile  ride  to  them  to  ask  me  to 
go,  it  was  certainly  worth  the  same  ride  to  me— 
so  we  arranged  it.  Only  six  shows  today.  Very 
slow! 

I  am  sure  that  when  I  go  to  America  a  nice  little 
movie  theater  where  they  start  at  eleven  a.m.  and 
finish  at  eleven  p.m.  is  going  to  be  about  my  speed. 
Elsie  Janis — the  human  film  I 

Tuesday. 

I  have  always  been  quite  proud  of  the  fact  that  I 
come  from  Ohio — even  though  I  did  so  when  I  was 
too  young  to  know  a  dry  State  from  a  wet  one. 
Until  four  years  ago  we  had  a  home  in  Columbus — 
which  we  only  saw  about  once  a  year — but  which 
was  quite  one  of  the  "  sights  "  of  the  city. 

If  you  were  pally  with  a  North  High  Street  car 
conductor  he  might  ring  the  bell  in  front  of  El- 
Jan  (name  suggesting  it  pays  to  advertise)  and 
-whisper  to  you,  "  That's  the  home  of  Elsie  Janis !  " 
And  if  by  chance  you  were  just  the  usual  sort  of 
person  and  never  had  heard  of  me,  you  would  have 
probaby  been  put  off  the  car.    That's  finished  now 


PROVINS  GETS  ZE  BEEG  "  HA!  HA!  "     129 

— we  have  sold  the  homestead  for  only  about  five 
thousand  dollars  less  than  it  cost — a  very  good  deal 
considering  the  amount  of  sentiment  connected 
with  it — but  as  I  was  saying  before  I  lost  myself 
in  a  maze  of  memories  and  old  home  town  stuff — 
I  have  always  been  proud  of  this,  but  tonight  I 
am  super-proud — I  have  been  out  to  a  "  threat  of 
a  town  "  known  as  Mandres.  When  I  arrived  at 
five-thirty,  about  three  thousand  men  were  already 
there — and  for  the  next  half  hour  they  kept  on 
arriving — company  after  company.  They  were 
marched  in  regular  formation  for  miles  around — 
some  came  as  far  as  ten  miles — and  they  called  it 
entertainment.  As  we  approached  there  came  to 
my  ears,  wafted  by  a  rather  damp  French  breeze, 
the  old  familiar  strains  of  "  Ohio,  Ohio '' — that 
to  me  had  always  meant  O.S.U.  (Ohio  State  Uni- 
versity) as  out  for  blood — but  not  the  kind  they 
were  after  in  France.  Just  regular  college  football 
blood. 

Then  I  heard  that  "  Wah-hoo-wah-hoo — rip,  zip, 
bazoo— I  yell— like  Hell— O.S.U."— and  then  I 
knew.  I  had  struck  my  own  gang — I  thought  we 
had  heard  some  yelling  in  France,  but  I  was  wrong 
— those  fellows  must  have  disturbed  St.  Peter's 
afternoon  "  nap  "  considerably. 

We  finally  got  them  all  there  by  about  seven, 
and  what  a  party  I  I  was  their  girl  from  their 
State — and  I'm  sure  each  man  there  felt  that  he 


130  THE  BIG  SHOW 

had  played  with  me  when  I  was  a  child  notwith- 
standing the  fact  that  when  I  was  a  child  I  did  a 
lot  more  working  than  playing.  I  could  have 
hugged  each  and  every  one  as  if  it  had  been  true. 

I  gave  an  hour  and  a  quarter  alone,  and  then  the 
real  fun  started.  One  boy  came  up  on  my  platform 
and  sang  beautifully  alone — then  we  sang  duets — 
the  two  bands  vied  with  each  other  on  "  jazzing  it 
np  " — then  we  start  a  sing-song — now  it's  getting 
dusk — the  sun  has  become  bored  by  our  having 
reached  the  sentimental  stage  and  has  left  us,  for 
now  we  are  singing  "  Perfect  Day " — and  the 
"  Long,  Long  Trail '' — to  hear  four  thousand  men, 
each  one  with  some  one  person  in  mind,  singing 
"  To  the  day  when  I'll  be  coming  down  that  long, 
long  trail  with  you  "  is  wonderful — but  to  hear 
them  sing  it  three  thousand  miles  from  home — with 
a  soft  French  twilight  descending  as  if  to  veil  the 
rather  limpid  light  in  most  of  those  brave  eyes — is 
a  thing  that  has  to  be  heard  and  then  remembered 
until  the  "  long,  long  Trail "  ends. 

Pull  yourself  together.  Private  Janis!  you  are 
getting  sloppy ! 

The  stars  and  moon  butted  in  before  we  realized 
that  it  was  time  to  quit,  and  I  literally  tore  myself 
away — after  shaking  hands  with  at  least  a  hundred 
who  knew  me,  when  they  had  those  long  return 
hikes  to  make — poor  boys!  I  felt  like  trying  to 
take  each  one  home,  but  whistles  blew — there  were 


PROVINS  GETS  ZE  BEEG  "  HA!  HA!  "    131 

several  different  variations  of  the  old  familiar 
"  Squads  right,  etc.,"  and  away  they  marched  in 
different  directions,  singing  different  songs.  Bless 
them !  they  have  not  been  in  action  yet,  but  I  know 
they  will  fight  like  they  sing,  with  all  their  good 
Ohio  hearts — and  if  I  do  say  it  as  shouldn't — 
we  grow  very  big  hearts  in  Ohio! 

It  rained  all  day  yesterday  and  part  of  today, 
so  those  boys  who  sat  there  for  three  hours  sing- 
ing, laughing  and  cheering  were  sitting  in  puddles. 

Do  I  come  from  Ohio!?    By  damn,  yes! 


CHAPTER  VIII 

Forbidden  Fronts 

WHEN  the  Big  Boss  of  the  Big  Show  told 
me  that  we  could  go  anywhere  on  any 
front  where  there  were  American  troops, 
I  was  very  pleased  and  immediately  asked  to  go  to 
all  the  places  that  had  been  "  forbidden  fruit "  in 
the  past.  One  bit  of  fruit  which  from  its  appear- 
ance and  facilities  for  human  comfort  might  well 
be  described  as  the  lemon  in  the  basket  of  forbidden 
fruit  was  a  place  called  Baccarat,  up  in  what  they 
call  the  Lun^ville  Sector.  I  had  received  telegrams 
from  the  divisions  there  asking  me  to  come  up, 
but  every  time  I  asked  to  go  people  looked  at  me 
as  if  I  had  asked  for  a  season  ticket  to  Heaven  or 
the  other  place.  After  seeing  Baccarat,  I  think  it 
was  the  other  place  they  thought  of — but  G.H.Q. 
said  certainly,  that  if  I  wanted  to  go  to  Baccarat 
'nufif  said !  So  they  gave  us  a  few  more  papers  and 
off  we  went.  We  left  Chaumont  at  ten  a.m.  and 
stopped  at  Colombey-les-Belles  for  lunch. 

The  Colonel  who  had  come  down  to  Chaumont 
to  ask  us  to  come  there  met  us  at  the  camp  and 
took  us  over  to  the  officers'  mess.     It  certainly  is 

182 


^■^m 


^ir. 


FORBIDDEN  FRONTS  133 

going  to  be  dull  for  us  after  the  War,  dining  with 
one  or  two  men — the  War  has  driven  any  fleeting 
idea  I  had  about  getting  married  well  out  of  my 
head,  for  I  am  not  satisfied  now  unless  I  have  at 
least  a  dozen  good-looking  Yanks  passing  me  twenty 
things  at  once — and  something  tells  me  even  an 
American  husband,  who  is  undoubtedly  the  best 
"  tamed  "  of  all,  would  balk  at  having  an  Army 
around  the  house  even  if  he  could  afford  it. 

We  lunched  exceedingly  well,  as  everyone  does 
with  the  American  Army  in  France.  Certainly  the 
poor  dears  at  home  who  have  given  up  so  much  in 
the  food  line  so  that  the  boys  in  France  might  eat 
would  be  gratified  to  see  those  same  boys  in  action 
in  the  Messroom  Sector.  Personally  I  hold  the 
world's  record  for  "fritter  stabbing." 

After  lunch  I  gave  my  show  outside  the  Y.  hut 
in  the  broiling  sun.  Until  the  Colonel  made  a  little 
speech  by  way  of  introducing  me,  I  did  not  realize 
how  important  my  visit  there  was.  The  Colonel 
had  told  the  boys  that  he  was  going  to  Chaumont 
to  get  Elsie  Janis  and  that  he  would  not  come  back 
without  her  promise  to  come.  He  evidently  ex- 
pected a  battle.  The  boys  told  me  they  never  had 
a  doubt  about  my  coming  after  the  Colonel  got  on 
the  job — because  if  he  went  for  me  like  he  went  for 
them  I  would  come  or  go  just  as  he  said.  Some 
Colonel ! 

My  audience  was  half  British — as  one  of  the  big 


134  THE  BIG  SHOW 

British  bombing  squadrons  was  five  miles  away. 
They  arrived  in  motor  trucks,  Rolls-Royces  and 
Fords — needless  to  say  the  Fords  arrived  first.  It 
was  a  fine  party.  I  sang  some  songs  that  th^ 
knew  and  at  the  end  had  the  British  singing  "  Over 
Here  "  in  a  style  that  would  have  made  George 
Cohan  green  with  envy.  "  Ovah-heah — ovah-heah 
— send  a  word,  send  a  word  we  ah  heah !  " 

True  they  were  rather  shy  on  r's,  but  when  they 
sang  at  the  end,  "  We  won't  come  back  till  it's  ovah 
ovah  heah'' — r's  or  no  r's,  you  looked  into  those  big 
baby-blue  British  eyes — saw  the  Bulldog  shining 
through,  and  knew  that  they  meant  it. 

I  was  enjoying  myself  so  much  that  the  much 
longed  for  Baccarat  slipped  my  memory,  and  we 
got  a  rather  late  start  for  same,  but  finally  got 
ofiP  amid  cheers  in  English,  French  and  American 
tones.  Each  place  I  go  I  want  to  stay,  but  per- 
haps it's  just  as  well  to  leave  them  wanting  more. 
My  natural  inclination  is  to  give  them  all  I  know, 
and  then  go  and  learn  some  more  to  give  them. 
On  the  way  to  Baccarat,  Mousme,  our  priceless 
Peke,  was  taken  ill,  so  we  arrived  there  in  a  state 
of  frenzy,  and  believe  me  one  should  be  quite  calm 
before  taking  in  Baccarat. 

As  we  approached  the  Lun^ville  Sector,  ruin  fol- 
lowed ruin.  There  was  not  an  entire  house  stand- 
ing— and  yet  people  seemed  to  be  living  or  at  least 
existing  there.    Sad-looking  cows  browsed  in  court- 


FORBIDDEN  FRONTS  135 

yards  of  what  used  to  be  houses,  an  occasional  de- 
pressed looking  horse  stuck  his  head  through  a 
shell  hole  in  a  shattered  wall  as  if  trying  to  kid 
himself  that  he  was  on  the  inside  looking  out, 
when  in  reality  he  was  only  wearing  the  wall  as  a 
collar — discontented  hens  pecked  about  trying  their 
best  to  enthuse  over  bits  of  shrapnel  which  should 
have  been  corn — altogether  the  Lun^ville  Sector 
looked  very  promising,  and  I  began  to  get  quite 
excited  because  I  said  to  myself  these  people  must 
be  under  shell-fire  all  the  time,  and  Baccarat  is  even 
nearer  the  Front. 

You  see,  it's  really  splendid  playing  under  shell- 
fire.  It  "  peps  • '  you  up  so ;  not  knowing  which 
song  may  be  your  last  makes  you  do  your  best, 
spurred  on  by  the  ambition  that  fills  every  perform- 
er's heart  to  make  a  good  exit.  I  had  felt  that  way 
at  Toul,  and  had  thoroughly  enjoyed  it.  So  Bac- 
carat looked  good  to  me.  We  arrived,  and  as  we 
coasted  down  the  hill  into  that  town  my  fondest 
hopes  were  realized.  Baccarat  was  literally  shot 
to  pieces. 

The  hotel  was,  as  we  say  in  our  set,  "  all  in." 
We  rode  slowly  through  looking  for  the  Crimson 
Triangle  amid  the  ruins.  We  finally  found  it  on 
one  of  the  most  un-Christianlike  old  buildings  I've 
ever  seen.  The  Y.M.C.A.  had  just  taken  it  over 
and  had  not  had  time  to  do  much  to  it.  It  was  two 
stories  high  and  looked  very  much  like  those  saloons 


136  THE  BIG  SHOW 

they  always  have  in  movies  of  the  Wild  West!  If 
the  outside  was  comic,  the  inside  was  certainly 
tragic.  The  Y.  folks  had  made  our  two  tiny  bed- 
rooms as  comfortable  as  possible — nice  clean  beds, 
but  the  rest  of  the  place  was  beyond  description.  I 
used  a  lot  of  mental  science  convincing  myself  that 
I  did  not  want  to  bathe,  see  or  do  anything  else 
in  the  civilized  line.  I  kept  listening  for  shells, 
bombs  or  something  exciting,  and  finally  I  could 
resist  no  longer,  so  I  asked  the  Y,  man  if  they  got 
shelled  very  often — and  then  the  blow  fell.  "  Oh, 
no ! "  he  said,  "  we  only  have  an  occasional  air 
raid.  All  these  ruins  are  the  result  of  the  French 
retreat  in  1914.  And  the  French  themselves  ruined 
all  these  buildings  getting  the  Germans  out." 

Bang!  went  another  hope.  Baccarat  was  after 
all  a  fairly  safe  place,  and  as  I  looked  out  of  my 
window  I  saw  that  grass,  flowers  and  even  trees 
had  grown  up  in  the  ruins. 

They  sent  for  the  Vet.  for  Mousme.  There  is 
nothing  the  American  Army  cannot  produce. 

We  dined  in  our  room,  which  is  the  only  place 
clean  enough  to  enjoy  a  meal  in,  and  then  went  to 
give  my  shows  in  the  only  building  the  French  had 
missed — the  Cinema  Theater.  It  was  very  nice 
and  all  whole.  I  gave  two  long  shows,  and  even 
then  some  of  the  fellows  could  not  get  a  seat,  but 
they  piled  in  somehow. 

Had  to  give  the  shows  early,  as  all  lights  must  be 


FORBIDDEN  FRONTS  137 

out  by  nine.  They  have  had  some  terrible  air  raids, 
though  for  the  last  few  days  things  had  been  calm 
owing  to  the  fact  that  a  new  division  had  come  in. 
The  division  they  replaced  was  one  famed  for 
"  treating  them  rough,"  and  they  gave  the  Hun 
some  proof  that  they  deserved  their  fame.  So  the 
Hun  took  his  revenge  in  dropping  things  on  Bac- 
carat ;  when  the  "  treat  'em  rough  "  division  left 
the  Boche  flyers  came  over  and  dropped  a  friendly 

little   message   saying   "  Good-by, Division. 

We  will  get  you  yet."  And  when  the  new  division 
arrived  they  sent  another  one  saying  "  Welcome, 
Division.     Be  good !  " 

So  far  the  latter  request  had  been  granted,  so 
things  were  fairly  quiet,  but  I  have  never  seen  any- 
thing quite  as  dark  as  that  town.  It  rained  very 
hard  after  the  show,  but  the  Colonel  had  asked  us 
to  go  out  to  his — well,  I  don't  really  know  whether 
it  was  a  chateau,  house  or  barn.  It  was  so  dark. 
We  rode  out  in  the  pouring  rain  without  a  light 
of  any  description — had  a  bite  of  supper — listened 
to  one  of  the  best  piano  players  I've  heard — and 
then  went  home. 

Our  hostelry  was  closed — barred — and  from  the 
odor  inside  I  should  think  hermetically  sealed — 
when  we  got  there. 

We  yelled,  coaxed,  knocked  on  iron  shutters 
(very  gratifying  I ) ,  but  all  of  no  avail.  Finally  our 
prayers  were  heard  by  just  about  the  most  impor- 


138  THE  BIG  SHOW 

tant  personage  in  Baccarat — the  traffic  cop — better 
known  as  American  M.P,  He  found  one  window 
that  someone  had  forgotten  to  lock.  Oh  I  it  was 
closed — he  got  in  and  woke  the  keeper  of  the  keys, 
who  came  down  and  let  us  in  with  a  sort  of  a 
"Where  did  you  find  a  place  that  stays  open?" 
expression  on  his  face.  He  lit  us  upstairs  with  one 
poor  flickering  little  candle  and  told  us  we  would 
find  one  each  in  our  rooms.  We  did — after  a 
search — but  Mother  as  usual  was  away  ahead  of 
them.  She  had  a  flock  of  candles  and  by  the  time 
she  finished  with  that  two-by-four  room  it  looked 
like  an  old  Spanish  church.  We  were  just  patting 
each  other  on  the  back  when  from  the  street  in  good 
old  Down  East  tones  came :  "  Hey !  you've  got  too 
much  light  up  there.  Put  it  out ! "  I  was  all  for 
blowing  out  ten  candles  with  one  blow,  but  Mother, 
who's  really  a  bit  of  a  rebel  and  whose  motto  is 
"  Not  without  a  struggle/'  went  to  the  window  and 
said  as  it  was  raining  so  hard  there  was  no  danger 
of  enemy  airplanes. 

He  was  sorry,  but  orders  icas  orders,  so  we  de- 
cided it  would  be  easier  to  go  to  bed — but  even  then 
we  were  w^rong.  There  was  nothing  easy  about  my 
bed.  It  was  built  rather  on  the  same  plan  as  a 
Thompson  Scenic  Railway — sort  of  hilly  like — and 
as  I  tossed  from  peak  to  peak  or  tried  to  squeeze  in 
between  them,  I  thought  of  all  the  world's  greatest 
martyi's  and  was  just  about  to  admit  to  myself 


FORBIDDEN  FRONTS  139 

that  they  were  amateurs  compared  to  me,  when 
above  the  constant  pat-pat-patter  of  the  rain  on  the 
roof  I  heard  "  tramp,  tramp,  tramp  " !  Oh !  such 
a  wet,  soggy-sounding  tramp,  tramp,  tramp.  It 
came  nearer  and  then  I  heard  whistling — ^very 
softly  at  first  but  getting  louder.  Squads  right! 
in  a  muflaed  voice.  I  jumped  out  of  bed,  lit  a  match, 
looked  at  my  watch  and  saw  that  it  was  three-forty- 
five  a.m.  Then  I  had  a  hunch.  "Just  before 
dawn  "  is  a  very  popular  time  for  moving  things 
in  war.  I  ran  to  the  window,  had  a  battle  with 
the  shutters  and  leaned  out.  And  there  they  were 
— some  of  the  same  boys  I  had  played  to  that  night 
going  up  to  take  their  places  in  the  Big  Show.  I 
leaned  out  quietly  and  they  kept  coming — each 
little  bunch  humming  their  own  tune  or  whistling 
— and  when  I  heard  three  of  my  own  songs  I  could 
no  longer  resist.  I  yelled  out  "  Atta  boy !  "  They 
did  not  dare  stop,  but  some  of  them  knew  that 
funny  voice  of  mine  and  they  said,  "  So  long,  Elsie. 
Come  back  soon." 

I  was  so  carried  away  at  being  in  on  that  just 
before  dawn  stuff  and  seeing  those  tin  lids,  gas 
masks,  rifles,  etc.,  all  going  one  way  that  I  did  not 
realize  my  teeth  were  chattering  or  that  Mother 
was  standing  beside  me  weeping  quite  silently. 
Between  sniffs  she  said,  "Yon  should  not  stand 
there  in  your  nightgown."  And  between  sniffs  I 
answered,  "  They  couldn't  see  me."    "  Oh,"  she  said. 


140  THE  BIG  SHOW 

"  I  mean  you  will  catch  more  cold,"  and  then  we 
both  leaned  out  again,  knowing  that  we  shared 
the  same  thought  that  a  cold  didn't  much  matter 
when  you  thought  of  what  those  dear  boys  were 
going  into — splashing  through  inches  of  mud — 
loaded  down  like  pack-horses.  Forward — to  what? 
They  did  not  know,  and  they  were  singing  and 
whistling.  We  waited  until  the  last  man  had  gone, 
saying  good  luck !  And  then  Mother  for  the  second 
time  tucked  me  into  my  Coney  Island  bed. 

Believe  me,  I  curled  up  on  one  of  those  bumps 
and  went  to  sleep  thinking  how  lucky  I  was  to  have 
a  bed  at  all — ^and  how  more  than  lucky  I  was  to  be 
living  near — seeing  and  giving  whatever  I  could 
give  to  boys  like  those.    Tramp,  tramp,  tramp ! 

Rain — mud — slush — and  they  had  about  five 
miles  to  go  before  getting  into  the  nice  "  comfy  " 
front-line  trenches  where  knowing  how  to  swim  is 
almost  as  important  as  knowing  how  to  shoot. 

The  next  day  was  a  lovely  sunshiny  one — the 
kind  of  a  day  that  seems  entirely  out  of  keeping 
with  war.  We  got  up  early,  and  having  heard  that 
there  were  a  lot  of  fellows  up  in  the  rest  camp  be- 
hind the  lines  who  could  not  come  in  for  the  show^ 
we  started  out  to  try  and  give  them  whatever  fun 
we  could,  without  pianos,  stages,  etc.  We  hung  the 
old  gas  masks  on  our  necks,  carried  the  tin  lids 
and  started  to  get  into  the  car,  when  we  were  in- 
formed that  our  masks  were  not  regulation.     So 


FORBIDDEN  FRONTS  141 

we  had  to  go  over  to  the  Q.M.S.  and  get  the  latest 
model  as  worn  in  the  Luneville  Sector.  The  only 
improvement  I  noticed  over  our  own  masks  was 
the  fact  that  with  the  ones  they  gave  us  there 
seemed  to  be  no  doubt  that  anyone  trying  to  put 
one  on  in  a  liurry  would  certainly  beat  the  gas 
to  its  job  by  strangling  themselves  to  death.  We 
finally  got  off — the  nearer  we  got  to  the  Front  the 
more  picturesque  the  scenery  became.  Lovely  syl- 
van woods,  all  cool  and  shady  but  filled  with  some 
of  the  meanest-looking  big  guns  Uncle  Sam  pos- 
sessed— we  got  up  right  close  to  the  lines.  There 
was  quite  a  show  on,  but  my  first  audience  had  just 
come  out  of  the  line  and  were  so  glad  to  be  alive 
that  they  did  not  seem  to  hear  the  guns  at  all.  So 
I  pretended  not  to  hear  either.  There  were  only 
about  two  hundred  of  them — and  they  sounded  like 
at  least  two  thousand.  I  gave  the  show  on  the 
grass,  down  beside  a  little  brook — well  shaded  by 
trees.  Two  or  three  huskies  had  dragged  a  piano 
up  from  somewhere,  from  the  sound  of  it  I  should 
say  they  dragged  it  out  of  the  brook.  Bill  knew 
it  was  not  a  piano  and  I  knew  it  was  not — but  the 
piano  was  very  proud  of  its  good  notes — both  of 
them!  I  only  gave  them  half  an  hour  and  then 
went  on  to  the  next  camp !  There  the  show  was  in 
an  ancient  machine  shop.  Another  half  an  hour 
show  to  about  four  hundred.  This  time  no  piano, 
for  which  much  thanks — because  Bill's  expression 


142  THE  BIG  SHOW 

when  he  touched  one  of  those  instruments  of  tor- 
ture was  so  depressing  that  it  took  all  the  joy  out 
of  my  performance. 

From  that  place  we  rode  about  twenty  minutes 
through  a  lovely  forest  and  arrived  at  another  lit- 
tle town — in  the  tiny  little  public  square  which 
though  it  was  not  labeled  was  undoubtedly  called 
"  Place  de  la  K^publique,"  as  no  little  French  ham- 
let is  complete  without  one. 

There  was  a  platform — I  was  a  little  ahead  of 
my  schedule — so  we  waited  for  the  crowd  to  gather 
— in  the  meantime  Bill,  who  had  friends  in  every 
regiment  in  the  A.E.F.,  disappeared — I  don't  know 
whether  his  courage  failed  him  when  he  saw  the 
piano — but  anyway  he  just  naturally  made  a  get- 
away. In  ten  minutes  we  had  a  big  crowd — and  I 
started  telling  stories — yelling  madly  for  Bill  after 
each  one — but  he  was  missing.  Finally  I  got  peev- 
ish, knowing  that  I  had  another  show  to  give  before 
lunch — and  would  be  late.  So  I  said,  "  Can  anyone 
beat  the  box?  "  Loud  shouts  of  "  Can  they? !  "  and 
up  onto  the  platform  stepped  a  slim  little  fellow 
with  a  pale  face  and  modestly  spoke  thusly : 

"  What  will  you  have,  Miss  Janis? '' 

I  nearly  said  "  I'll  take  the  same,"  but  asked  for 
"  I  Don't  Want  to  Get  Well." 

Could  that  Yank  beat  the  box !  I'll  say  he  could ! 
He  played  everything  I  asked  for  and  in  any  old 
key.      He    played    a    solo    for    me — Rubinstein's 


FORBIDDEN  FRONTS  143 

"  Melody  in  F  "  in  ragtime — and  I  was  wishing  the 
Huns  could  hear  him. 

About  this  time  Bill  appeared.  I  sweetly  advised 
him  to  take  a  seat  on  a  cobblestone  and  listen  to 
a  regular  piano-player.  Bill  was  a  dear — he  didn't 
even  get  "  up  stage  " — he  agreed  with  me.  I  could 
have  stayed  there  playing  with  those  fellows  for  the 
duration  of  the  War.    But  I  had  to  get  on. 

I  went  there  to  give  them  pleasure — but  certainly 
that  time  it  was  that  boy's  show.  The  result  of  the 
"  Jazz  Jubilee  "  was  that  we  arrived  at  the  next 
little  burg  twenty  minutes  late,  and  just  at  lunch 
time.  I  had  forgotten  lunch  until  we  landed  right 
near  the  Mess  and  then  I  suddenly  realized  that  we 
had  only  had  a  flirtation  with  a  bit  of  toast  and 
a  cup  of  coffee  that  morning.  Captain  R.,  a  very 
nice  boy  who  was  stage-managing  the  little  tour, 
insisted  that  even  actresses  must  eat.  So  we  got 
the  Commanding  Officer's  permission  to  give  the 
show  immediately  after  lunch.  In  the  meantime  we 
had  found  two  of  our  best  pals  from  New  York. 
So  we  lunched  with  them  in  their  quarters.  Maybe 
we  didn't  talk  and  eat  more  in  half  an  hour  than 
seemed  humanly  possible. 

Then  we  gave  the  show  in  the  tiniest  Y.M.C.A. 
hut  in  captivity.  It  w^as  also  beside  a  stream  and 
about  five  feminine  antiques  were  washing  clothes 
in  it.  I  must  say  they  cramped  my  speed  a  bit. 
You  know  in  France  they  don't  w^ash  clothes — they 


144  THE  BIG  SHOW 

spank  them — and  just  as  I  would  draw  near  to  the 
point  of  a  story — pat,  pat,  pat  would  go  the  laun- 
dry ladies  in  unison.  After  a  time  it  got  on  the 
boys'  nerves,  too.  I  think  it  sounded  too  much  like 
machine  guns  to  add  to  our  pleasure.  Finally  an 
intrepid  Major  went  out  to  stop  them.  Ha,  ha! 
We  stopped  the  show  because  we  had  a  hunch  his 
act  would  be  funnier  than  mine. 

^'  Arret €z-vou8/'  said  he,  politely. 

Fortunately  he  could  not  get  the  gist  of  the  re- 
sponding chorus.  I  could — but  I'll  never  tell.  Pat, 
pat,  pat  went  the  barrage  of  cleanliness  and  then 
Mother,  who  has  never  yet  failed  me  at  a  crucial 
moment,  slipped  quietly  out.  I  heard  her  speak 
one  of  her  three  French  words.  ^^  Attendez!"  I 
tried  not  to  look,  but  at  the  same  time  was  planning 
how  I  would  have  to  knock  her  out  before  I  could 
rescue  her  from  the  stream  where  the  laundry  ladies 
would  undoubtedly  put  her — ^but  lo!  there  was  a 
silence.  So  sudden  and  so  sweet  as  to  be  alarming. 
Mother  had  done  the  thing  that  will  stop  or  start 
'most  anything  in  France — she  had  flashed  a 
twenty-franc  note.  Some  poor  Yank  did  not  get 
his  shirt  that  night — but  Elsie  gave  her  show  and 
those  five  ladies  put  up  their  paddles  and  called  off 
work  for  a  week.  From  there  we  went  back  to 
town  and  on  the  way  stopped  at  the  hospital,  where 
I  gave  a  short  show  in  a  tent — only  about  fifteen 
minutes.    I  was  really  about  all  in,  and  I  had  been 


FORBIDDEN  FRONTS  145 

told  that  there  were  lots  of  wounded,  and  when  I 
got  there  I  found  about  six  wounded,  surrounded 
by  at  least  a  hundred  nurses  and  fifty  doctors. 
Though  I  love  them  all  and  know  what  wonderful 
things  they  have  done  in  the  War,  by  that  time  I 
had  just  about  as  much  voice  as  if  I  had  been 
gassed,  so  I  just  told  them  that  I  was  ^'  kaput  "  and 
beat  it  for  Baccarat. 

Now  that  all  sounds  like  a  day's  work,  but  cheer 
up!  the  worst  is  yet  to  come.  It  was  two-fifteen 
when  we  reached  Baccarat.  We  took  one  last  look 
at  same  and  started  on  for  Belfort,  where  I  was 
scheduled  for  two  shows  that  night.  From  Bacca- 
rat to  Belfort  is  about  one  hundred  and  thirty  kilo- 
meters and  one  of  the  prettiest  drives  in  Europe. 
I  must  say  the  beauty  of  it  left  me  cold  that  day. 
I  had  no  voice — I  had  two  shows  to  give  that  night 
— and  the  trip  looked  impossible — but  we  carried 
on.  I  didn't  see  the  scenery — I  had  my  eye  on  the 
clock — but  it  didn't  matter,  because  in  all  our 
travels  with  the  A.E.F.,  Mother  and  I  were  only 
going  over  ground  that  we  knew  by  heart — for  we 
had  motored  every  summer  all  over  the  place.  So 
this  time  it  was  just  a  case  of  get  there!  I  hated 
the  thought  of  missing  a  show — because  one  never 
knew^  whether  they  would  ever  get  all  the  same 
fellows  again.  We  beat  it  up  and  down  those  moun- 
tains like  the  Germans  were  after  us,  and  we  ar- 
rived in  Belfort  at  six  forty-five.    I  had  sprayed  and 


146  THE  BIG  SHOW 

gargled  my  throat  all  afternoon,  and  though  it  was 
not  all  there  I  did  find  a  little  voice.  We  were  met 
by  the  Y.  man  in  charge  of  the  area,  who  informed 
Tis  that  the  first  show  was  at  seven,  but  we  screamed 
"  It's  ten  to  now !  "  "  Well,"  he  said,  "  they  will 
wait  all  night  if  they  know  you  are  really  coming  I  " 

I  said,  "  Telephone  out  and  say  we'll  be  there  in 
an  hour." 

Belfort  has  a  real  hotel.  In  fact  Belfort  is  a  real 
town  and  has  been  for  some  time. 

We  rushed  upstairs  to  a  charming  suite  of  rooms, 
looked  at  a  lovely  bathroom,  glanced  at  a  menu  on 
which  was  printed  a  splendid  dinner,  but  all  that 
was  not  War^  so  I  dressed  with  one  hand,  ate  a 
sandwich  with  the  other,  and  in  exactly  twenty 
minutes  we  were  on  our  way  to  Rougemont,  where 
those  dear  patient  boys  yelled  and  welcomed  me  as 
if  I  had  not  been  one  minute  late,  let  alone  one 
hour. 

The  show  was  in  the  public  square,  with  the 
usual  opposition  of  passing  ammunition  trains, 
automobiles,  motor  cycles  and  French  children 
chattering,  but  I  w^orked  doubly  hard  because  I  was 
ashamed  of  being  late. 

There  were  a  lot  of  fellows  from  Wisconsin  and 
other  Western  States.  They  gave  college  yells,  the 
band  played,  T  danced  with  about  ten  and  then 
was  reminded  that  there  was  another  bunch  who 
had  waited  an  hour.    So  we  left — and  dashed  over 


FORBIDDEN  FRONTS  147 

hill  and  dale — to  the  next  place,  which  was  one  of 
the  most  interesting  of  all — a  chateau,  situated  on 
the  only  bit  of  German  soil  the  Allies  held.  I 
wouldn't  dare  say  it  was  German  soil  if  my  French- 
Alsatian  maid  was  among  those  present,  because 
it  was  really  Alsace-Lorraine,  and  though  all 
French  people  claim  that  province  has  never  been 
anything  but  French,  all  the  signs  in  the  little  vil- 
lage were  in  German  and  all  the  natives  -spoke  the 
language.  What  could  be  more  fitting  than  that 
the  Yanks  should  be  holding  that  front?  when 
every  Yank  went  to  war  with  the  idea  of  getting 
back  Alsace-Lorraine  for  France — which  reminds 
me  of  a  yarn  they  told  me. 

The  Crown  Prince  of  Germany  has  lost  much  in 
the  War,  but  it  seems  that  it  was  a  Yankee  private 
who  got  his  Highness'  Royal  goat.  The  Yank  taken 
prisoner  was  brought  before  the  Crown  Prince,  who 
said  in  his  most  Kultured  manner : 

"  What  are  you  Americans  fighting  for?  " 

The  Yankee  said  without  hesitation,  "  Alsace- 
Lorraine." 

The  Prince  said,  "And  what  is  Alsace-Lor- 
raine? " 

The  Yank  smiled  and  said,  "  Why,  it's  a  big 
lake." 

"  There  you  are,"  said  the  Prince  to  his  staff, 
"  these  Americans  don't  know  what  they  are  fight- 
ing for,"  showing  that  the  higher  they  are  the 


148  THE  BIG  SHOW 

harder  they  fall — and  that  the  Germans  don't  know 
when  they  are  being  kidded. 

We  arrived  at  the  chateau  in  Alsace  and  found 
the  boys  singing — after  an  hour's  waiting. 

It  was  a  lovely  place  with  a  dear  little  stage  out 
in  front  of  the  chateau.  Flowers,  palms,  etc.,  all 
around  it,  and  about  one  thousand  boys  making 
almost  as  much  noise  as  the  guns,  which  were  going 
strong. 

These  Americans  were  sent  to  that  sector  for  a 
rest  because  it  was  quiet.  Well !  if  what  was  going 
on  that  night  is  their  idea  of  quiet,  I  would  like  to 
show  them  Tarrytown,  N.  Y.  I  started  my  show, 
and  after  one  number  some  local  talent  made  its 
appearance.  One  of  the  boys  had  dressed  up  in 
some  comedy  clothes  and  a  really  funny  make-up. 
He  put  over  about  ten  minutes  of  regular  "  fun  " 
while  presenting  me  with  a  bouquet  of  flowers.  He 
recited — sang — danced — and  all  the  time  I  played 
"straight"  for  him.  I  found  out  after  that  he 
had  been  in  vaudeville  and  he  certainly  was  clever. 
I  had  a  feeling  that  the  day  had  been  almost  too 
good  to  last,  and  I  was  right. 

There  is  always  a  dash  of  bitter  with  the  sweet, 
and  so  the  dash  came.  I  was  just  about  to  start  a 
song  when  suddenly  I  heard  the  old  familiar  and 
never  less  thrilling  tramp,  tramp,  tramp — and  then 
I  heard  in  the  distance  "  So  long,  Elsie.  See  you 
again,"  and  then  "  Three  cheers  for  our  Elsie." 


FORBIDDEN  FRONTS  149 

I  stopped — quite  stunned,  as  I  had  never  been 
interrupted  like  that  in  all  my  work  over  there. 

An  officer  down  in  front  stood  up  and  said, 
"  Sorry,  Miss  Janis,  but  some  of  the  boys  have  to 
go  into  the  line." 

Well,  my  party  was  ruined,  for  I  knew  that  had  I 
been  on  time  they  would  have  been  able  to  see  the 
whole  show. 

I  yelled  "  Good-by  "  and  they  went  off — two  bat- 
talions of  them  singing  "  When  Yankee  Doodle 
Learns  to  Parlez-Vous  Frangais,"  the  song  I  had 
just  sung  to  them.  I  don't  mind  admitting  that 
my  next  song  was  shy  on  "  pep  "  and  very  strong 
on  choked- back  tears.  They  kept  on  yelling  "  Good- 
by"  until  they  finally  faded  away — their  cheery 
young  voices  drowned  by  the  roar  of  the  Boche  guns 
they  were  going  to  face. 

I  finished  up  my  show,  but  could  not  get  them  out 
of  my  mind.  We  had  a  glass  of  "light  wine" 
with  the  General  and  his  staff  and  then  went 
home. 

It  was  the  end  of  a  perfect  day — eight  shows — 
and  I  could  not  speak  out  loud. 

The  next  morning  we  called  a  French  throat  spe- 
cialist, who  examined  my  voice  box  and  said  I  must 
not  sing  for  a  week.  I  thoroughly  agreed  with  him 
and  went  on  to  Besangon,  where  I  gave  two  shows 
for  about  five  thousand  men — out  at  an  enormous 
camp  called  Valdehon.    They  were  fellows  who  had 


150  THE  BIG  SHOW 

just  come  over,  so  I  got  all  the  news  from  home  and 
learned  two  or  three  new  songs! 

The  next  morning  we  left  for  Paris  and  went  all 
the  way  through  in  one  day,  stopping  at  Dijon  for 
lunch. 

On  arriving  in  Paris  we  got  an  urgent  telegram 
from  London  asking  me  to  appear  for  the  American 
soldiers  there — I  answered  that  I  would  do  so  in 
two  weeks,  but  in  the  meantime  we  were  to  go  to  the 
most  forbidden  of  all  fronts — the  British  Front! 

THE  SLACKER* 

He  was  only  a  little  penny  clerk 

Before  the  war  began, 
Just  a  clod  of  earthy  common  clay 

That  some  folks  called  a  man. 
"  Your  King  and  Country  need  you ! " 

Meant  nothing  in  his  life, 
Though  he  hadn't  any  mother 

And  he  couldn't  afford  a  wife. 
He  hated  the  thought  of  killing, 

He  hated  the  blasted  War, 
And  he  couldn't  be  made  to  understand 

What  the  bloody  thing  was  for. 
He  was  a  slacker  I 

Conscription  came  and  they  snapped  him  up 

Before  he  could  bat  his  eye, 
And  they  said,  "  Now,  whether  you  will  or  not, 

We'll  make  you  a  regular  guy!  " 


*  Dedicated  to  Guy  Empey's  book  "  Over  the  Top.' 


FORBIDDEN  FRONTS  151 

So  they  gave  him  a  Tommy's  uniform 

And  they  handed  him  out  a  gun, 
And  they  said,  ''  You're  going  to  fight,  my  lad, 

And  get  shot  in  the  back  if  you  run." 
In  about  four  months  they  sent  him  out, 

He  was  weak  in  the  knees  and  pale, 
And  they  knew  in  their  hearts  when  the  fun  began 

That  the  blighter's  nerve  would  fail. 
He  was  a  slacker! 

When  they  gave  him  a  front  seat  up  m  a  trench 

He  sat  in  a  corner  and  cried, 
While  the  Germans  gave  his  comrades  hell 

And  men  on  both  sides  of  him  died. 
Then  he  saw  his  chance  and  he  ran  for  it 

Right  back  of  the  lines  like  a  dog; 
He  ran  and  ran  to  an  old  cowshed, 

Then  he  dropped  to  the  ground  like  a  log. 
That  night  after  sundown  they  found  him  there, 

They  court-martialed  him  on  the  spot, 
'And  it  took  just  ten  minutes  to  make  up  their 
minds 

That  the  white-livered  cur  must  be  shot. 
He  was  a  slacker! 

So  they  put  him  in  charge  of  a  sentry 

And  marked  him  to  be  shot  at  dawn, 
He  cried  and  he  begged  them  for  merc;^, 

But  they  growled :  "  Shut  your  damn  trap — 
you're  gone ! " 
He  was  sitting  there  moaning,  not  praying. 

When  a  whale  of  a  big  German  shell 
Came  straight  on  its  way,  not  delaying. 

And  knocked  the  poor  sentry  to  hell. 


152  THE  BIG  SHOW 

When  the  slacker  came  to  he  was  lying 
Face  down  in  the  mud,  couldn't  see, 

But  he  pulled  his  poor  soul  together 
And  he  saw  like  a  shot  he  was  free. 
He  was  a  slacker! 

Then  all  of  a  sudden  he  gets  up 

And  throwing  his  head  in  the  air 
That  low-down,  blinkin'  deserter 

Starts  in  a-sajing  a  prayer. 
"  O  God !  "  he  says,  "  I've  been  rotten, 

But  give  me  just  one  little  chance; 
Just  say  what  I've  done  is  forgotten, 

Let  me  die  like  a  man  here  in  France. 
God  help  a  slacker !  " 

Then  he  ran  like  a  hare  to  the  trenches, 

A-nd  he  grabbed  up  another  man's  gun, 
And  he  starts  in  to  fight  like  a  terrier, 

For  the  battle  was  nowhere  near  won. 
As  he  got  there  the  Captain  was  saying, 

"  Boys,  it's  a  dangerous  job ; 
For  the  man's  life  who  does  what  I'm  asking 

I  wouldn't  be  offering  a  bob." 
"  Let  me  go,"  said  a  voice  from  behind  him. 

The  Captain  just  stuck  out  his  hand ; 
When  he  saw  who  it  was  he  near  fainted 

And  then  yelled  out,  "  Well,  I'll  be  damned! 
It's  the  slacker! " 

He  was  over  the  top  in  a  minute 
And  gets  back  with  the  stuff  that  they  want, 

With  a  look  on  his  face  right  from  Heaven 
And  a  courage  that  nothing  could  daunt. 


FORBIDDEN  FRONTS  153 

But  he  says,  "  There's  a  fellow  that's  dying 

On  the  barb  wire  in  No  Man's  Laud, 
And  I'm  not  going  to  quit  without  trying 

To  give  the  poor  devil  a  hand." 
So  he's  out  on  the  job  in  a  minute 

And  he  brings  the  guy  in  on  his  back 
And  he  smiles,  looking  for  all  the  world  like 

Santa  Claus  toting  his  pack. 
Is  this  our  slacker? 

He  got  his  man  back  and  was  happy, 
He  was  far  more  than  doing  his  part, 

When  one  of  those  damned  German  snipers 
Put  a  bullet  right  straight  through  his  heart. 

This  is  only  the  tale  of  a  fellow 

Who  grew  into  a  man  in  a  night, 
One  who  had  lived  his  life  yellow 

And  finished  it  up  pure  white; 
They  buried  him  there  with  the  others, 

In  a  little  garden  in  France; 
He  asked  for  a  chance  to  show  them, 

And  he  did  when  God  gave  him  a  chance. 
He  was  no  slacker! 


CHAPTER  IX 
The  British  Front 

IT  is  very  diflftcult  to  write  of  your  own  expert' 
ences  without  sounding  very  self-centered. 
Those  few  lines  by  way  of  excuse  for  the  fol- 
lowing ! 

On  our  arrival  in  Paris,  I  found  waiting  for  me 
five  offers  to  play  and  for  real  honest  to  goodness 
money.  Three  French  managers  and  two  British. 
The  French  impresarios  having  seen  me  at  Gaumont 
Palace  with  five  thousand  Americans  cheering  my 
efforts  decided  that  I  was  a  "  riot."  I  suggested 
that  I  did  not  always  get  so  much  applause  when 
the  spectators  had  to  pay.  They  would  not  listen. 
They  wanted  me,  but  I  was  too  far  gone  on  the 
A.E.F.  to  concentrate  on  any  real  theater,  so  I 
thanked  them  and  declined. 

The  British  offers  we  said  we  would  consider,  as 
Mother  and  I  both  had  a  hunch  that  sooner  or 
later  I  would  have  to  make  some  money — for  it 
was  all  going  out  and  nothing  coming  in. 

But  a  sixth  proposition  appealed  to  me — the  one 
which  asked  me  to  come  to  London  and  play  on 

164 


THE  BRITISH  FRONT  155 

a  Sunday  night  at  my  old  home,  the  Palace  Theater, 
where  Sir  Alfred  Butt  and  a  committee  of  very 
kind-hearted  English  managers  were  giving  weekly 
shows  for  the  American  soldiers. 

They  gave  these  soldiers  shows  all  winter,  and 
our  boys  saw  and  heard  the  best  artists  in  London 
for  nothing.  More  of  that  later.  When  we  walked 
into  the  British  Provost  Marshal's  in  Paris  to  re- 
ceive our  permission  to  go  to  the  British  Front, 
Foch,  Clemenceau,  Lloyd  George  and  President 
Wilson  were  unimportant  compared  to  us.  At 
least  in  my  estimation,  for  be  it  understood  that 
that  same  front  was  "  taboo  "  to  some  very  impor- 
tant people — hundreds  of  English  artists  would 
have  given  anything  they  possessed  to  go,  and  were 
not  permitted  to  do  so — and  when  I  announced  to 
friends  in  Paris  that  we  were  going  there,  they 
looked  at  me  with  a  sort  of  "  Poor  girl,  too  bad  she 
drinks — she  has  nice  eyes  "  expression.  We  signed 
papers  agi*eeing  to  many  things  before  we  got  the 
passes.  Among  the  conditions  were  one  that  made 
me  laugh.  We  had  to  promise  not  to  go  to  Ger- 
many during  the  War.  I  assured  them  that  I  did 
not  crave  Germany  though  I  did  possess  a  pre- War 
contract  for  Berlin. 

Our  passes  read  "by  command  of  General  Per- 
shing," and  needless  to  say  that  one  little  line  ex- 
plains their  existence. 

On  July  19th  we  left  Paris  at  nine  a.m.,  stopped 


156  THE  BIG  SHOW 

at  Beauvais  for  lunch.  When  we  rolled  up  to  the 
little  hotel  about  ten  little  French  boys  jumped  on 
the  car  and  held  out  very  dirty  little  French  hands. 

"  Ah,"  I  said,  "  there  must  be  some  Americans 
here,"  and  when  we  failed  to  get  their  idea  and 
did  not  "  come  across  "  the  little  boys  all  swore  in 
such  good  American  that  there  could  be  no  doubt 
about  it. 

During  lunch  the  French  waitress  confided  to 
me  that  they  had  had  an  American  division  there 
for  a  week  "  en  repos  "  and  were  desolees  because 
they  had  been  taken  away.  She  said  that  les 
Americains  were  so  heau — so  big — so  frank — and 
she  added  so  generous,  as  if  she  had  never  thought 
of  it  before,  but  I  was  way  ahead  of  her — I've  seen 
our  boys  go  into  a  little  town  like  that,  "  all  paid 
up  and  nowhere  to  blow." 

At  five  in  the  afternoon  we  arrived  at  Ahheville! 
What  a  change  since  the  days  when  we  used  to 
stop  there  for  lunch  en  route  by  motor  from  Lon- 
don to  Paris !  There  was  literally  no  place  to  live 
in  the  town,  but  the  Y.  man  met  us  and  took  us  on 
through  town  out  to  a  charming  chateau  that  the 
Y.M.C.A.  were  using  with  the  kind  permission  of  a 
French  lady  who  was  one  of  the  most  charming 
examples  of  true  French  hospitality  ever  seen.  She 
retained  two  or  three  rooms  for  herself,  and  other- 
wise the  entirely  lovely  house  and  estate  were 
turned  over  to  the  Y.M.C.A.    As  usual  we  were  a 


THE  BRITISH  FRONT  157 

little  behind  our  schedule — so  we  grabbed  a  cup  of 
tea  and  started  on  up  to  the  Front.  We  passed 
through  Abbeville  again — and  got  a  good  look  at 
the  dirty  work  of  the  Huns.  In  one  little  square, 
or  rather  what  was  once  a  square  and  is  now  just 
a  heap  of  ruins,  we  saw  where  nine  houses  had 
stood  when  one  aerial  torpedo  hit  them,  went  all 
the  way  through  and  knocked  them  flat,  killing 
eleven  British  W.A.A.C.'s — a  nice  cheery  sight  to 
show  me  on  my  way  up  to  spread  gayety. 

Our  entree  to  the  sacred  British  Area  was  not 
particularly  gay.  It  had  been  raining  all  day  and  to 
add  to  our  joy  bang !  went  a  front  tire.  The  driver 
fixed  it  with  us  all  timing  him — and  we  started  on. 
Ten  minutes  later  things  began  to  get  very  interest- 
ing, one  could  hear  the  guns  in  the  distance,  and 
every  minute  we  could  hear  that  we  were  getting 
nearer  to  them.  Bang!  went  another  tire — and 
Willis  the  driver  calmly  remarked  that  he  must 
mend  an  inner  tube.  Time  never  meant  much  in 
my  life  until  I  went  to  war,  but  I  know  I  shall 
never  go  back  to  my  old  habits  of  holding  the  cur- 
tain again.  I  leapt  out  of  the  car  determined  to 
stop  anything  on  wheels  that  was  going  towards 
the  Front — even  if  it  was  one  of  the  guns.  Some- 
thing came,  but  it  was  not  a  gun — it  was  an  Aus- 
tralian soldier,  which  is  almost  as  dangerous.  I 
waved  frantically  and  between  being  surprised  at 
anyone  daring  to  get  in  his  way  and  the  shock  of 


158  THE  BIG  SHOW 

seeing  a  girl  "  up  there,"  he  nearly  ran  over  the 
latter.  You  see  I  never  wore  a  uniform,  and  in 
fact  the  men  all  told  me  I  was  the  first  girl  they 
had  seen. 

Of  course  W.A.A.C's,  nurses,  ambulance  drivers 
and  all  those  other  splendid  examples  of  feminine 
heroism  were  considered  by  the  men  to  be  soldiers. 
I  was  just  a  girl  in  a  blue  serge  suit — ^very  thin  silk 
stockings — a  silver  fox  fur  and  rather  a  smart  hat 
if  I  do  say  it — as  shouldn't.  I  am  sure  that  Aus- 
tralian had  read  carefully  the  Army  rules  about  a 
soldier's  conduct  towards  the  women  in  France 
and  was  thoroughly  prepared  to  live  up  to  them. 
He  was  coldly  tolerant — as  I  explained  that  I  must 
get  up  to  Molliens-le-Bois  by  seven.  "  Sorry," 
he  said,  "  I've  got  to  be  at  '  Somethingville '  by 
seven."  But  I  pleaded :  "  You  must  take  us,  I  am 
going  up  to  give  a  show  for  the  Americans."  "  Oh," 
said  he,  "  well,  if  it's  for  the  Americans,  jump  in." 
And  I'll  say  we  jumped.  Mother,  Bill,  the  Y.  man 
and  myself.  I  jumped  for  the  front  seat — for 
though  the  Australian  was  rather  freezing,  he  had 
a  wind  shield — and  it  was  an  open  car. 

We  started  off,  and  after  poking  along  at  about 
ninety  miles  an  hour  with  that  Australian,  I  am 
not  surprised  at  the  reputation  his  fellow-fighters 
have  for  getting  there!  I  was  almost  as  bent  on 
melting  that  icy  "  Aussie  "  as  I  was  on  getting  to 
the  Front.    So  I  had  to  work  fast.    We  passed  a 


THE  BRITISH  FRONT  159 

whole  flock  of  artillery  going  up,  and  when  he  be- 
gan pushing  guns  off  the  road  with  his  fenders 
and  yelling,   "  What  the  hell  do  you  want — the 

whole road !  "  I  felt  as  if  we  were  old  friends, 

so  I  ventured,  "  How  do  you  find  the  Americans?  " 
"  Oh,"  said  he,  with  what  would  have  been  a  smile 
if  the  wind  had  not  been  so  strong,  "  The  Ameri- 
cans are  O.K.  They're  there!  We're  holding  some 
of  the  line  with  'em — about  one  man  every  quarter 
of  a  mile!  Oh,  yes!  we're  for  'em.  Why,"  he 
added,  "  they  speak  our  language  " — I  did  not  tell 
him  that  I  had  realized  that  when  we  passed  the 
guns,  but  I  did  "  chuckle  "  at  the  idea  of  the  Yanks 
and  the  Aussie  speaking  their  own  language  on  the 
British  front.  I  could  not  resist  reminding  him  as 
I  often  had  to  remind  our  boys  that  if  it  had  not 
been  for  England  they  might  never  have  been  at  all. 
He  got  my  drift  and  he  said,  "  Oh,  I've  got  nothing 
against  England,  but  there's  entirely  too  damn 
much  brass  buttons  about  this  here  British  Army." 
The  Aussie,  be  it  understood,  wears  a  tunic  that 
looks  like  a  cross  between  a  golf  coat  and  a  kimono. 
He  must  be  comfortable  when  he  goes  "  Hun- 
shooting."  He  is  a  splendid  fellow,  and,  after  all, 
brass  buttons  are  a  matter  of  taste.  Personally 
I  love  them.  By  the  time  we  reached  Molliens-le- 
Bois,  I  had  finnly  decided  Australia  was  on  the 
map,  for  me,  at  some  future  time. 

Molliens-le-Bois   was   charming,   but   wet.    The 


160  THE  BIG  SHOW 

boys  were  waiting  for  me,  hundreds  of  khaki- 
colored  dots  against  the  dark-green  background  of 
a  very  thick  wood.  I  went  into  a  tent — changed 
shoes — powdered  nose — sprayed  throat — stood  on 
stones  to  keep  out  of  a  half  foot  of  water  and  went 
to  it.  Fine  crowd,  mostly  Americans  with  a  smat- 
tering of  Aussies  and  Tommies.  They  had  built  a 
platform  for  me  right  in  the  heart  of  the  wood.  We 
could  hear  the  Boche  aviators  snooping  about  above 
our  heads,  but  Nature's  camouflage  was  too  good 
and  they  could  see  nothing. 

As  I  was  leaping  about  festively  to  the  tune  of 
"  Strutters'  Ball,"  the  platform  gave  way  in  the 
middle,  and  down  I  went  out  of  sight.  Being  fairly 
husky  I  pulled  myself  out  before  the  entire  audi- 
ence could  come  to  my  assistance,  and  fortunately 
Bill  did  not  weaken,  but  kept  right  on  playing.  So 
when  I  came  up,  I  came  right  on  the  beat  and 
finished  the  song  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

As  my  show  was  finishing,  a  whistle  blew  and 
here  and  there  a  Yank  jumped  to  his  feet,  yelled 
"  So  long,  Elsie ! "  and  ran.  I  watched  them  in 
the  distance  lining  up,  putting  on  gas  masks  and 
other  "  weight,"  then  I  knew  they  were  "  going 
up."  I  stood  leading  the  band  as  they  all  marched 
away.  I  changed  the  tune  to  "  Over  There,"  and 
they  all  sang  it.  I  am  getting  quite  used  to  being  a 
sort  of  human  hors  d'ceuvre  now. 

One  of  the  officers  said,  "  Those  fellows  will  give 


THE  BKITISH  FRONT  161 

Fritz  all  that's  coming  to  him,  you  see.  The  Brit- 
ish give  their  men  rum  before  a  battle,  the  French 
cognac,  and  we  give  ours  Janis." 

I  told  him  I  had  never  been  served  as  a  drink 
before,  but  at  any  rate  I  was  in  strong  company. 

Most  of  that  crowd  were  from  Chicago,  or  there- 
abouts, and  they  had  a  jazz  band  that  would  drive 
Billy  Sunday  to  drink — and  make  him  do  the 
"  eagle  rock."  I  asked  if  they  could  play  the 
"  Beale  Street  Blues."  The  leader  said  he  thought 
so,  and  would  I  lead  it?  I  said  "  Let's  go,"  and  we 
did.  If  I  could  only  describe  the  joy  of  having 
about  forty  fellows  all  blowing  their  nice  young 
faces  nearly  off  just  for  you — but  some  things  can't 
be  described.  I  can  only  say  that  I  quite  forgot 
I  had  had  no  dinner,  or  that  I  must  go  on  to  an- 
other place,  until  the  General  sent  orders  that 
Miss  Janis  must  eat,  and  that  if  she  would  not  leave 
the  band,  the  band  must  leave  her.  So  we  com- 
promised. I  went  into  a  tent  and  had  some  food 
with  the  officers,  and  the  band  played  outside.  I 
know  everything  that  was  done  for  me  in  France 
was  meant  to  be  kind,  but  asking  me  to  sit  down 
calmly  and  eat  with  a  band  jazzing  it  up  outside, 
borders  on  cruelty.  While  falling  through  the  plat- 
form I  had  torn  my  stocking.  A  catastrophe!  be- 
cause my  silk  stockings  were  always  one  of  my  most 
important  bits  of  equipment.  Their  contents  never 
counted  for  much,  but  the  stockings  themselves  I 


162  THE  BIG  SHOW 

know  looked  good  to  the  boys  after  months  of  Army 
socks.  So  how  to  stop  the  run  in  same  black  silk 
equipment  became  a  question  of  the  moment.  And 
can  you  believe  that  up  there  in  view  of  the  enemy, 
where  the  mud  was  a  foot  deep  and  I  had  to  be 
carried  to  and  from  the  stage,  a  little  American 
sergeant  stepped  up  with  not  only  a  needle  and 
thread  but  with  black  silk  thread!  An  event  like 
that  could  have  been  a  scandal,  but  it  was  a  real 
blessing,  and  the  sarge  got  three  cheers — I  never 
knew  I  could  sew,  before  that  time,  but  then  I 
found  out  a  lot  of  things  about  myself  in  France. 
Mother  was  there,  of  course,  to  help  me  as  always. 

From  there  we  went  to  General  B.'s  headquar- 
ters, where  out  in  the  lovely  grounds  two  thousand 
khaki  heroes  were  waiting.  About  ten  per  cent. 
British,  and  it  did  my  heart  good  to  see  our  boys 
with  their  arms  about  the  shoulders  of  the  Tom- 
mies, for  though  I  am  very  strong  for  France,  and 
all  her  glory,  I  am  also  doubly  strong  for  the  Eng- 
lish-speaking races!  not  only  speaking  the  same 
language,  but  understanding  each  other  when  they 
do  speak. 

I  gave  the  show  on  two  big  motor  trucks  backed 
up  against  each  other — with  the  little  bit  that  lets 
down  at  the  back  making  the  stage — about  four 
feet  in  breadth.  Some  stage  and  believe  me,  turn- 
ing a  cartwheel  in  a  space  of  four  feet  is  more  than 
a  feat — it's  a  miracle. 


THE  BRITISH  FRONT  163 

My  show  was  an  hour  and  a  quarter — because 
when  there  are  British  I  have  to  sing  songs  from 
my  London  shows,  just  to  even  things  up. 

After  the  performance  we  went  into  the  chateau 
and  the  General  showed  us  on  the  big  war  maps 
what  the  Yanks  were  doing.  The  tide  had  turned, 
and  the  Huns  were  on  the  run.  The  French  push- 
ing them  on  one  side  at  Soissons  with  the  efficient 
aid  of  our  boys.  The  British  shoving  them  at 
Rheims  and  great  things  expected  at  Chateau- 
Thierry.  I  won't  say  that  I  was  surprised,  for  I 
will  back  the  Yanks  to  take  objectives  if  they  once 
get  their  chins  well  set,  but  I  was  proud,  oh!  so 
proud  to  know  that  our  boys  who  had  never  been 
trained  to  the  idea  of  war  were  able  to  come  among 
seasoned  warriors  not  only  to  hold  their  own  but 
also  take  what  they  wanted.  It  was  about  nine- 
thirty  and  the  Boche  was  starting  his  nightly  dis- 
play of  fireworks.  As  we  were  driving  home  in  the 
inky  darkness  the  sky  was  ablaze  with  star  shells, 
Very  lights,  etc.  We  were  stopped  six  times  by 
sentries,  coming  home. 

Certainly  the  British  front  is  the  most  exclusive 
of  all,  and  no  one  could  complain  of  its  being  dull. 
During  the  week  we  were  up  there  the  roar  of 
the  guns  never  entirely  ceased.  Just  one  nice 
long  thunderstorm,  but  alas!  no  rainbeam  in 
sight ! 

We  reached  the  chateau  at  midnight,  very  tired, 


164  THE  BIG  SHOW 

and  fell  into  our  very  nice  soft  beds.  One  could 
still  hear  the  guns,  and  I  went  to  sleep  thinking 
what  a  nerve  I  had  to  be  tired  when  hundreds  of 
mother's  dear  boys  were  up  there  patiently  obeying 
the  order  of  "  Battery  ready — fire !  "  all  day  and 
all  night. 

The  next  day  at  dawn  we  were  rudely  awakened 
not  by  the  guns,  because  one  got  so  used  to  them 
and  I  must  say  I  prefer  them  as  an  alarm  clock — to 
what  we  got.  It  had  rained  all  night,  and  of  course 
we  had  our  windows  open.  Sufficiency !  At  dawn 
started  a  concentrated  attack  by  at  least  all  of  the 
regular  army  of  flies  in  France,  and  some  of  the 
reserves.  They  had  their  own  glee  club  and  jazz 
band  and  of  course  all  sleep  was  ofif.  I  was  furi- 
ous because  I  was  in  one  of  the  few  good  beds  I 
had  met;  however,  the  only  thing  to  do  was  to 
pull  the  covers  over  the  kid  curlers  and  be  grate- 
ful as  Polly  anna  would  have  been  that  that  crowd 
of  flies  were  not  mosquitoes. 

The  flies  won  the  battle,  and  when  at  about  ten 
we  got  up  from  sheer  fatigue,  we  found  that  our 
driver  Willis  and  Bill  the  music  man  had  taken 
the  car  and  gone  to  Abbeville  for  inner  tubes — and 
there  we  were  sunk  in  that  big  lonely  chateau. 
The  hostess  had  gone  to  see  her  daughter  some 
miles  away — the  Y.  men  were  all  out  on  the  job — 
the  servant  had  been  told  to  give  us  our  breakfast,^ 
but  nothing  about  any  other  food,  so  had  tea  and 


THE  BRITISH  FRONT  165 

toast  for  breakfast  and  then  again  for  lunch — and 
more  tea  and  toast  for  tea. 

It  rained  as  it  can  only  rain  in  France,  and  all 
our  boys  will  back  me  up,  I  know,  when  I  say  that 
it  is  the  most  untiring  rain  in  the  world.  We  could 
not  go  out  because  we  had  no  clothes  to  spare — 
we  could  not  drive  the  flies  out,  we  could  not  write 
letters  because  the  hostess  had  taken  the  keys  of 
the  library  where  the  ink  was  buried,  so  there  we 
sat,  and  believe  me,  gentle  reader,  when  Bill  and 
the  chauffeur  returned  about  five,  having  lunched 
very  well  and  not  on  inner  tubes,  they  thought  the 
big  offensive  had  started,  as  I  had  lost  a  chance 
to  give  another  show.  Unfortunately  or  fortu- 
nately for  the  two  deserters  we  had  to  move  right 
on  up  to  the  Front  to  give  two  shows,  so  we  had 
not  time  to  tell  them  what  we  really  thought.  It's 
probably  just  as  well  because  the  car  would  not  go 
without  the  driver  and  the  piano  would  not  go 
without  Bill — and  we  could  not  let  our  own  private 
war  interfere  with  the  real  one. 

It  was  still  pouring  when  we  left  for  the  Front 
— ^we  went  to  a  town  called  Beauval,  where  we 
dined  with  the  officers  and  it  looked  very  much 
like  no  show — as  all  my  shows  up  there  were  out 
of  doors,  but  just  as  we  were  finishing  dinner  the 
rain  stopped,  as  if  by  magic,  so  I  gave  the  show  on 
a  water-soaked  little  platform  in  the  little  public 
square  which  looked  rather  like  a  swimming  pool. 


166  THE  BIG  SHOW 

It  takes  more  than  even  French  rain  to  cramp  the 
speed  of  our  boj-s,  so  they  were  waiting  two  thou- 
sand strong. 

Gave  about  an  hour's  show.  General  K.  made  a 
charming  and  very  flattering  speech  and  just  as 
he  was  saying,  "  Now,  boys,  three  long  ones  for 
Elsie  Janis  I "'  the  rain  started  again  as  if  by  magic. 
So  the  second  show  had  to  be  postponed  until  the 
next  day,  and  we  came  back  to  the  chateau.  I  hate 
only  doing  one  show  in  a  day — it  seems  so  little — 
the  flies  were  waiting  for  us  when  we  came  home, 
and  we  firmly  decided  to  make  a  getaway,  though 
the  original  idea  was  to  make  that  chateau  our 
headquarters.  Personally  while  not  wishing  to 
pull  any  heroine  stuff  I  must  say  I  prefer  shells 
now  and  then  to  flies  all  the  time.  The  shells  may 
not  get  you,  but  there  is  no  doubt  about  those 
French  flies. 

Word  came  through  that  night  that  the  Allies 
were  going  strong  on  all  points  and  the  Huns  were 
homeward  bound.  The  next  day  was  Sunday,  not 
that  that  makes  much  difference  in  war — but  I 
woke  myself  up  by  giving  a  tremendous  slap  to 
what  I  thought  was  a  fly,  but  what  turned  out  to  be 
my  nose — As  I  came  to  I  heard  strange  music. 
Suddenly  I  thought  perhaps  the  flies  had  worried 
me  to  death  and  I  had  gone  to  heaven — voices 
singing  "  Onward,  Christian  soldiers  •'  I  heard  dis- 
tinctly, but  I  was  still  in  the  flies  retreat — and  the 


THE  BRITISH  FRONT  167 

hymn  was  being  sung  by  about  twenty  Y.M.C.A. 
workers  who  had  come  from  miles  around  to  hold 
a  meeting.  We  decided  that  they  were  right.  On- 
ward was  the  idea,  whether  one  happened  to  be  a 
Christian  soldier,  or  not.  So  we  got  busy — and 
went  onward  and  forward — we  lunched  at  General 
K/s  headquarters  and  got  more  good  war  news. 
General  J.  was  also  lunching  there,  and  after  lunch 
we  went  on  over  to  Doullens,  where  his  brigade 
were  stationed.  Nice  crowd,  of  fifty-fifty  American 
and  British,  in  the  public  square  as  usual. 

Afterwards  had  tea  with  a  flock  of  "  big  guys  " 
at  General  J.'s  chateau — which  by  the  way  was  well 
strafed  by  the  Boche  a  few  days  later — and  one  of 
the  officers  sent  me  one  of  the  few  things  that  was 
not  completely  "  done  in,"  which  was  a  small  sign 
with  "  Elsie  Janis — over  here ''  printed  on  it,  and 
several  shrapnel  wounds  on  its  surface.  A  nice  sou- 
venir to  have.  When  I  am  an  old  lady  I  can  at 
least  prove  that  I  was  a  head-liner  in  Doullens. 

After  tea  we  went  on  to  Fruges,  where  we  found 
they  had  prepared  most  alluring  quarters  for  us 
in  what  was  known  as  the  "  rest  house  " — a  place 
for  wandering  Generals  to  repose  their  weary 
medals.  We  were  not  Generals  and  we  had  no 
medals,  but  one  look  at  the  rest  house  convinced 
us  that  the  Chateau  Bonance  at  Abbeville  was 
napoo  for  us.  So  while  I  was  giving  my  show  we 
sent  the  driver  back  for  our  things,  which  were  not 


168  THE  BIG  SHOW 

even  packed.  We  told  him  to  just  bring  every- 
thing except  the  flies — he  did,  making  a  record  trip. 
The  show  was  at  seven  and  indoors^  quite  a  pleasant 
surprise.    Splendid  band  I 

After  the  performance  we  dined  with  Major- 
General  K.  and  his  staff.  He  was  one  of  the  finest 
types  to  be  seen  on  any  front,  and  all  the  officers 
around  him  reflected  his  charm  and  dignity.  One 
especially  nice  Colonel  really  took  care  of  us  as 
if  we  had  been  children,  and  after  a  very  won- 
derful dinner  suggesting  anything  but  war,  our 
Colonel  took  us  back  to  the  rest  house  and  did 
everything  to  make  ns  "  comfy  "  except  tuck  ms  in. 
Someone  is  very  lucky  in  being  Mrs.  Colonel,  and 
I  saw  her  picture;  in  fact,  I  have  never  seen  so 
many  wives  in  evidence  as  I  saw  in  France.  Nearly 
every  officer  I  met  showed  me  a  wife's  picture — and 
I  am  proud  to  say  usually  his  own — that  is,  if  he 
showed  it  to  me. 

We  awoke  next  morning  after  a  really  splendid 
sleep.  An  orderly  came  to  bring  some  coffee  and 
with  it  the  great  news  that  the  Germans  were 
thrown  back  across  the  Marne  and  that  the  Ameri- 
cans were  after  them — some  swimming  rather  than 
wait  for  pontoons. 

We  left  Fruges  after  lunch.  It  was  raining  for 
a  change,  but  cleared  off  as  we  drew  nearer  to  our 
objective,  which  was  a  small  town  in  Flanders  right 
back  of  Ypres — more  of  a  village  than  a  town — 


THE  BRITISH  FRONT  169 

called  Watou,  pronounced  by  the  Tommies  "  What- 
ho  •'  I 

That  trip  was  really  the  most  warlike  one  we  had 
had — camion  after  camion  of  troops  going  up — big 
guns — little  guns — tanks,  and  instead  of  an  occa- 
sional observation  balloon  I  counted  no  less  than 
fifteen  strung  along  in  a  row — over  the  Allied 
lines,  and  in  the  distance  the  same  number  of  Ger- 
man ones  over  the  Boche  lines.  They  looked  so  use- 
less— ^great  big  "  hot  dogs  "  hanging  there — but  how 
wonderful  they  are — and  I  admit  that  my  idea  of 
a  brave  man  is  one  of  those  observers — they  go  up 
knowing  they  can't  protect  themselves.  Three  and 
four  airplanes  at  a  time  picking  on  them — Archies 
barking  at  them  from  below  and  the  best  they 
have  to  look  forward  to  is  at  least  a  two  or  three 
thousand  foot  drop  with  a  comic  parachute  which 
may  or  may  not  "  chute."  I  shall  never  forget 
.Watou.  The  — th  Division  was  up  there — and  I 
only  could  have  about  a  thousand  men,  because  the 
Boche  planes  were  very  busy,  and  if  they  saw  a  big 
crowd  that  would  mean  strafing  at  once.  There  was 
nothing  to  hide  under  in  Watou.  If  there  ever  were 
trees  there  they  had  all  given  up  the  fight — in  fact, 
that  entire  sector  looked  rather  like  certain  parts 
of  Kansas — and  anyone  who  has  been  through  the 
part  of  Kansas  I  mean  will  realize  that  when  the 
French  gave  Flanders  to  the  British  to  look  after, 
they  forgot  the  Entente  Cordiale. 


170  THE  BIG  SHOW 

There  was  one  street  in  Watou — at  least  I  don't 
think  there  was  more  than  one,  because  nothing 
missed  the  street  I  saw.  My  platform  was  in  a  lot 
right  beside  it  and  when  I  started  my  show,  every- 
thing else  started  simultaneously.  The  guns,  which 
had  only  been  murmuring,  started  to  roar — artil- 
lery clanked  by — big  tractors,  dragging  even  bigger 
guns — and — tanks!  I  had  always  wanted  to  see  a 
tank  battalion,  but  they  did  not  help  the  point  of 
my  stories.  However,  I  carried  on,  dancing  a  bit 
when  the  noise  was  too  much.  Finally  things  died 
down  a  bit  and  I  took  a  long  breath  and  prepared 
to  start  again — when  all  of  a  sudden.  Bang !  boom  ! 
put,  put,  put — and  right  behind  me  it  seemed — I 
looked  at  the  boys  who  were  all  doing  their  best 
to  stick  with  me — but  furtive  glances  were  being 
cast  skywards — not  right  above  me  but  behind  me. 
Finally  I  could  resist  no  longer,  so  I  looked.  There 
against  the  sky  was  one  of  our  own  big  sausages 
with  two  Boche  'planes  flying  around  it — swooping 
down  on  it  like  vultures — the  anti-aircraft  guns 
were  turned  on  them  and  shells  were  bursting  all 
around.  Black  shrapnel  from  the  Boche  side  and 
w^hite  from  ours.  I  realized  that  my  style  was 
cramped,  for  all  the  boys  were  cross-eyed  trying  to 
look  at  me  and  at  the  opposition  at  the  same  time. 
I  turned  to  the  boys  and  said,  "  I  want  to  see  this 
show,  too,  so  we  will  have  an  intermission  until 
they  finish  their  act."    So  I  sat  down  on  the  ground 


THE  BRITISH  FRONT  171 

with  the  boys,  and  we  watched  for  about  ten  min- 
utes— nothing  could  get  that  plucky  observer  out — 
he  stayed  right  there  until  our  own  guns  made 
it  so  hot  for  the  Boche  that  they  beat  it  for 
home. 

I  then  finished  my  show,  which  seemed  to  me  to 
be  rather  of  the  small-time  order  in  comparison 
with  the  one  we  had  just  witnessed.  I  must  admit 
that  I  was  not  sorry  not  to  play  a  long  run  at 
Watou ! 

From  there  we  went  to  Houdezeele,  which  looked 
even  worse  than  it  sounds — and  there,  wonder  of 
wonders  I  we  found  a  General  without  a  chateau — 
a  General,  in  fact  a  Major-General — commanding 
one  of  the  finest  divisions  of  all — and  there  he  was 

in  a  tiny  little  French  house  in  H .     I've  just 

looked  on  my  map  to  find  out  the  correct  way  to 
spell  Houdezeele,  and  I  find  it  is  not  even  on  the 
map,  but  my  map  must  have  been  made  before 
the  — th  Division  hit  that  neck  of  the  woods.  I'll 
bet  Houdezeele  is  on  the  map  now,  because  those 
boys  sure  did  make  some  history. 

We  dined  in  the  tiny  house  with  General  O.,  who 
it  seemed  to  me  at  first  was  rather  young  and  blue- 
eyed  to  be  a  Major-General — but  later  on  I  decided 
that  he  was  a  man  who  could  be  most  anything  he 
decided  to  be.  During  dinner  he  said,  "  Now,  Mrs. 
and  Miss  Janis,  we  know  how  hard  you  have  been 
working,  so  we  are  going  to  try  to  give  you  a  little 


172  THE  BIG  SHOW 

recreation  this  evening."  And  I'll  say  they  did. 
We  walked  over  to  a  large  field,  where  on  several 
trees  were  nailed  most  lovely  posters  of  me,  say- 
ing "  Tonight — at  seven  "  drawn  by  a  private  in 
the  Army.  But  certainly  a  splendid  artist  in  op 
out  of  it.  There  was  a  stage  flat  on  the  ground — 
and  the  audience  was  the  same.  A  tent  at  the  back 
for  the  artists  to  change  in.  We  were  escorted  up 
to  the  front  row  of  the  lot  where  a  few  officers' 
coats  made  a  very  dry  and  comfy  place  to  sit — 
and  then  the  show  started.  And  some  show!  they 
had  everything — ^jazz  band,  black-face  comedians, 
lovely  chorus  ladies,  and  the  leading  man  was  a  boy 
we  knew  well  who  had  been  at  the  Century  with 
me.  I  could  not  help  thinking  how  nice  and  quiet 
he  must  have  found  a  real  battlefield  in  compari- 
son with  the  stage  at  the  Century  Theater. 

We  did  love  the  show — and  it  was  really  good — 
not  just  because  they  were  soldiers,  but  because 
they  were  soldier  actors.  One  of  the  finest  com- 
binations produced  by  the  War! 

When  they  had  finished  I  started,  and  I  must 
say  I  had  something  to  follow — but  they  were  very 
generous  to  me  and  showed  no  signs  of  professional 
jealousy  I  Bless  them — they  were  a  fine  bunch  and 
I  hope  some  day  to  play  with  them  again.  The 
"  ladies  "  especially  were  very  good  fellows — they 
even  offered  to  lend  me  their  powder  puffs. 

After  their  show  six  lovely  fairies  disappeared 


THE  BRITISH  FRONT  173 

into  the  tent  and  a  few  minutes  later  six  strong- 
looking  guys  in  khaki  came  out. 

That  night  when  we  got  back  to  Fruges  and  the 
rest  house,  our  Colonel  was  waiting  for  us  with 
some  sandwiches — liquid  refreshment  and  more 
good  war  news.  So  we  turned  in  with  very  light 
hearts — and  the  firm  conviction  that  the  — th 
Division  was  ace  high — and  that  I  would  ask  noth- 
ing better  than  to  be  a  member  of  that  troupe  of 
splendid  soldier  actors  who  went  about  spreading 
joy  right  up  in  the  front  line  trenches — having  but 
one  thought,  and  that  one  to  make  things  as  happy 
as  they  could  for  their  fellow-men. 

We  left  Fruges  and  the  charming  rest  house  at 
ten  the  following  morning.  Once  more  it  was 
pouring — but  that  did  not  prevent  our  nice  Colonel 
from  standing  out  in  front  of  the  rest  house  waving 
good-by  and  making  us  very  sorry  to  leave. 

We  reached  the  chateau  of  General  Mc. — near 
St.  Pol — in  time  for  lunch.  On  the  way  we  passed 
battalion  after  battalion  of  our  boys  all  marching 
the  way  we  were  going.  We  waved  to  them  as  we 
always  did  to  any  Americans  on  the  road — and  they 
all  yelled  "  Hello,  Elsie !  "  so  I  suspected  they  were 
plodding  along  in  that  terrific  downpour  to  see  me. 
When  we  got  there  I  looked  out  the  window  and 
saw  a  perfect  sea  of  "  slickers  "  (waterproofs)  with 
smiling  wet  faces  above  them.  I  did  not  want  to 
eat  lunch  with  them  standing,  but  the  General 


174  THE  BIG  SHOW 

said  there  were  hundreds  more  to  come — so  we 
lunched  and  then  went  out  on  the  verandah  of  the 
chateau — where  the  band  was  playing  despite  the 
fact  that  they  had  to  stop  every  few  minutes  to 
pour  the  water  out  of  their  instruments. 

There  were  six  thousand  men  who  had  marched 
from  miles  around  and  there  they  stood  drenched — 
but  cheering — I  started  to  try  to  sing,  but  between 
the  rain  and  loud  claps  of  thunder  which  proved 
that  all  the  scientists  with  all  their  high  explosives 
are  pikers  compared  to  God's  own  cannonade,  they 
could  not  hear  me,  though  I  yelled  until  I  was 
hoarse.  So  I  took  the  baton  from  the  band-leader, 
and  yelled  that  they  must  help  me  out — and  then 
the  fun  began!  I  led  them  and  they  sang — every- 
thing that  they  knew — between  songs  I  danced  for 
them — my  feet  were  soaked,  my  hair  was  hanging 
in  my  eyes — my  hat  was  well  on  one  ear,  but  I 
never  had  so  much  fun  in  my  life.  Every  time  I 
would  stop  for  a  moment  they  would  all  sing, 
"Wait  till  the  sun  shines,  Elsie."  So  I  waited, 
hoping — but  alas  I  in  vain.    It  still  poured. 

Finally  after  an  hour  and  a  quarter  I  really  had 
to  quit — I  was  soaked,  for  though  they  had  a  cover 
over  the  platform  it  would  have  had  to  be  bomb- 
proof to  stop  that  rain. 

I  said  good-by  and  turned  to  tell  them  how  sorry 
I  was — but  a  clap  of  thunder  spoiled  my  speech,  so 
I  threw  kisses  instead,  and  those  six  thousand  regu- 


THE  BRITISH  FRONT  175 

lar  guys  gave  me  three  cheers  that  must  have  made 
the  thunder  jealous. 

We  drove  away  with  them  still  smiling  and  sing- 
ing, "  Wait  till  the  sun  shines,  Elsie !  "  Oh !  how 
I  wanted  to  wait  I  but  in  France  you  can't  tell  about 
the  sun,  and  we  had  to  make  Paris  that  night. 

Paris  was  radiant — the  Americans  were  in 
Chateau-Thierry  with  both  feet  and  the  Huns  were 
in  such  a  hurry — the  only  things  that  could  keep  up 
with  them  were  the  airplanes — several  of  my  pet 
divisions  were  around  Chateau-Thierry — so  I  im- 
mediately got  busy  to  get  permission  to  go  there — 
which  we  did  after  a  dash  over  to  London ! 


CHAPTER  X 
Following  the  Hurrying  Huns 

DURING  the  War  all  countries  seem  to  be 
like  very  large  dogs  in  very  large  mangers. 
They  don't  want  you  themselves,  but  they 
don't  want  you  to  go  anywhere  else — so  when  we 
decided  to  go  to  England  for  one  week,  it  required 
some  explanations. 

As  usual  we  leapt  about  from  passport  bureau 
to  Consulate  and  finally  found  ourselves  at  Le 
Havre,  where  the  best  thing  we  could  get  on  a 
Channel  boat  was  one  tiny  room  with  two  bunks 
— no  sheets  on  same,  and  so  we  just  rolled  up  in 
blankets  and  prayed  for  a  smooth  crossing — and 
I  must  admit  that  though  we  have  crossed  the  ocean 
seven  times  during  the  War,  I  felt  the  first  tremor 
of  submarine  terror  on  that  dinky  little  Channel 
boat.  I  found  myself  looking  at  the  port-hole, 
which  had  to  be  shut  tight  so  that  no  lights  would 
show — and  wondering  if  I  could  get  my  slim  but 
strong  hips  through  that  particular  sized  opening 
— then  I  went  to  sleep  and  dreamed  I  could  not 
get  my  head  through.    We  woke  up  in  Southamp- 

176 


FOLLOWING  THE  HURRYING  HUNS      177 

ton — one  of  those  nice  cheery  English  mornings — 
a  pea-green  fog — which  gradually  lifted  to  let  a 
nice  steady  rain  filter  through.  We  disembarked 
and  spent  about  an  hour  having  papers  and  bag- 
gage examined.  We  only  had  one  trunk,  for  which 
much  thanks.  The  British  authorities  examined 
everything,  even  to  my  vanity  case — I  don't  blame 
them  because  if  I  found  two  women  traveling  with 
as  many  papers  and  passes  as  we  had,  I  would 
shoot  them  as  spies  and  tear  up  the  papers.  I  don't 
crave  having  things  searched,  especially  when  they 
go  into  the  sacred  domain  of  the  "  lip-stick,"  powder 
box,  etc.,  but  one  rather  amusing  thing  happened. 
In  my  bag  was  a  slip  of  paper — a  very  dirty  and 
suspicious-looking  slip  of  paper — on  which  was 
written  the  following :  "  Ah-Wah-ta-na-Siam," 
which  is  the  Siamese  National  Anthem,  as  taught 
to  me  by  a  British  General  in  France.  If  you  will 
sing  those  words  to  the  tune  of  "  My  Country,  'Tis 
of  Thee,"  you  will  be  able  to  imagine  the  feelings 
of  the  snoopy  authority^  who  insisted  on  knowing 
what  was  on  that  bit  of  paper. 

"  Ah-Wah-ta-na-Siam." 

He  was  only  doing  his  duty,  poor  fellow,  but 
truth  will  out.  By  the  time  they  had  finished  with 
us  and  said  we  could  proceed  I  had  lost  all  desire 
to  do  so,  and  was  whole-heartedly  regretting  the 
fact  that  I  was  not  a  spy;  however,  once  in  the 
train  with  the  lovely  green  hills  and  hedges  of  Eng- 


178  THE  BIG  SHOW 

land  unfolding  before  my  eyes,  I  forgot  everything 
except  the  fact  that  I  was  in  England,  and  that 
next  to  going  back  to  America,  going  back  to  Eng- 
land is  the  best  thing  that  can  happen  to  me. 

Once  in  London,  and  we  realized  where  the  "War 
really  was.  In  France,  if  you  had  money,  you 
could  get  butter,  you  could  get  cream  and  other 
"  chases  defendus/'  but  in  England  Law  is  Law 
and,  believe  me,  King  or  beggar  you  could  not  get 
things  without  coupons.  Three  tiny  pieces  of  meat 
a  week  as  far  as  I  am  concerned  is  teasing  the 
animals,  but  England  was  still  England — with  the 
theaters  going  strong,  and  all  of  the  shows  filled 
with  jokes  about  the  hardships  of  life  during  the 
war.  Other  countries  might  have  wept  at  the  lack 
of  coal,  butter,  cream,  meat,  lard  and  hundreds  of 
other  things,  but  the  British,  who  some  short-eared 
people  say  have  no  sense  of  humor,  were  still  laugh- 
ing after  nearly  five  years  of  suffering. 

Once  in  London  and  comfortably  installed  in  the 
same  corner  suite  at  the  Carlton  which  we  have 
occupied  off  and  on  for  ten  years,  we  forgot  the 
shortage  of  food,  we  were  very  long  on  friends — 
and  among  them  some  rather  high  officials  of  the 
Government,  so  we  proceeded  to  enter  a  large- 
sized  kick — about  being  "  held  up  "  so  strenuously 
at  Southampton.  I  had  an  idea  that  maybe  it  was 
on  account  of  my  rather  German  sounding  name, 
so  Mother  got  all  ready  to  shake  the  family  tree — 


FOLLOWING  THE  HURRYING  HUNS      179 

whose  leaves  prove  that  my  forefathers  with  a  great 
amount  of  foresight  landed  in  America  in  1744  and 
as  far  as  we  can  find  out  I  am  the  only  member 
of  the  family  that  has  ever  left  the  country  since. 
Mother  was  also  ready  to  wave  a  couple  of  British 
great-grandfathers  in  the  face  of  anyone  who  was 
curious,  but  before  we  could  do  anything  the 
American  Army  was  on  the  job  with  an  explanation 
and  an  apolog}^ — and  all  w^as  well. 

It  seems  that  in  1915  we  broke  the  anti-aliens 
law  by  taking  in  and  taking  out  of  England  my 
Alsatian  maid,  and  for  that  we  got  a  bad  mark.  I 
asked  if  they  thought  I  had  her  concealed  in  my 
powder  box?  which  the  oflSicial  at  Southampton  ex- 
amined carefully — however,  we  forgot  about  it  in 
the  excitement  of  work.  We  arrived  on  Saturday, 
and  on  Sunday  night  I  played  at  the  Palace  for  our 
boys  and  a  few  English  soldiers.  It  was  a  great 
night.  The  thrill  of  being  back  at  my  old  home, 
the  Palace,  was  something  and  the  combination  of 
being  there  and  playing  for  our  boys  was  inspiring. 
After  the  show  we  had  supper  with  a  large  party 
of  friends,  American  and  English,  who  almost  con- 
vinced me  that  there  was  a  lot  of  work  for  me  in 
England,  as  thousands  of  Americans  were  arriving 
every  week  en  route  for  France,  and  I  could  play 
here,  make  money  and  still  be  in  touch  with  the 
A.E.F. 

We  began  to  weaken.    The  next  day  we  went  out 


180  THE  BIG  SHOW 

to  give  a  show  for  Yanks — wounded — ill — ^and  sta- 
tioned at  a  place  that  used  to  be  an  insane  asylum, 
but  was  turned  over  to  the  Americans — nothing 
personal  about  it.  A  charming  and  exceedingly 
well-run  hospital,  where  I  found  many  friends.  I 
gave  five  shows  while  in  London,  and  at  the  end 
of  the  week  there  was  no  argument  left,  I  had  to 
come  back  to  England,  and  play — combining  busi- 
ness with  pleasure.  The  business  being  to  play  at 
the  Palace,  the  pleasure  to  continue  my  work  for 
our  boys. 

We  left  England  the  next  Saturday,  and  I  must 
say  our  exit  was  much  better  than  our  entrance 
into  England.  All  the  officials  at  Southampton 
bowed  low — and  a  charming  American  officer  was 
sent  down  there  with  us  to  see  that  we  were  well 
taken  care  of. 

At  Havre  on  Sunday  I  gave  one  show  in  the 
local  town  hall,  and  at  night  went  out  to  Etr^tat, 
where  the  Americans  had  taken  over  a  hospital. 

There  were  only  about  three  hundred  in  the  audi- 
ence— including  some  extremely  pretty  nurses — 
and  if  they  could  cure  Yanks  as  well  as  they 
cheered  me — I'm  sure  no  one  stayed  very  long  at 
Etr^tat. 

It  was  now  August  third,  and  in  Havre  the  offi- 
cial bulletin  announced  that  the  Allies  had  taken 
forty  thousand  German  prisoners  since  July  15th, 
and  the  Americans  had  crossed  the  Vesle. 


FOLLOWING  THE  HURRYING  HUNS       181 

The  following  morning  we  got  up  at  six  in  order 
to  catch  the  early  train  for  Paris.  The  hotel  w^as 
facing  the  quay,  and  when  I  went  to  open  the  win- 
dow, what  should  greet  my  rather  sleepy  eyes  but 
the  good  ship  Yale  which  used  to  run  from  New 
York  to  Boston — laden  with  American  troops — one 
mass  of  khaki!  Bless  them,  there  they  were  just 
getting  ready  to  land  and  meet  the  great  adventure 
face  to  face.  I  went  out  on  the  balcony  and  wig- 
wagged to  them  with  a  pink  kimono.  They  yelled 
and  waved  at  me,  and  I'm  sure  they  thought  I  was 
some  French  "  cutie  "  giving  them  a  welcome. 

On  arriving  in  Paris  we  were  greeted  by  Big 
Bertha,  who  was  still  going  strong,  despite  the  fact 
that  she  was  supposed  to  have  been  destroyed  at 
least  ten  times.  Paris  was  very  merry  and  bright. 
The  British  had  surprised  the  Boche  in  front  of 
Amiens  and  had  taken  seventeen  thousand  prison- 
ers— and  the  Americans  were  trying  hard  to  catch 
up  with  them — beyond  Fere-en-Tardenois.  We 
stayed  three  days  in  Paris.  I  went  out  to  the  hos- 
pital at  Neuilly  and  sang  to  the  fellows  who  had 
made  history  for  America  at  Chateau-Thierry.  I 
never  saw  so  many  fellows  with  so  many  grouches, 
and  all  for  one  reason,  because  they  were  out  of 
what  they  termed  "  a  regular  scrap."  Their  stories 
were  wonderful — and  it  seemed  almost  impossible 
that  the  Germans  could  be  really  so  demoralized. 
One  boy  said,  "  Hell,  we  don't  need  fighters  now — 


182  THE  BIG  SHOW 

we  need  *  sprinters,'  "  I  gave  three  shows  during 
the  three  days — one  at  the  Soldiers'  and  Sailors' 
Hut — one  at  the  British-leave  Club — and  one  at  the 
Y.W.C.A.  It  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  enter- 
tained the  feminine  Young  Christians,  and  a  finer 
lot  of  girls  I  never  want  to  see.  Chateau-Thierry 
was  back  on  the  Allied  route,  so  we  got  our  passes 
and  started  on  the  trail  of  the  hurrying  Huns. 

We  went  first  to  La  Fert^,  where  my  old  friends 
of  the  — th  Division  were  resting,  after  doing  won- 
ders. We  were  put  up  at  Headquarters,  a  lovely 
chateau.  I  gave  a  show  in  the  afternoon  and  the 
boys  had  just  as  much  "  pep  "  as  if  they  had  not 
been  fighting  hard  for  three  weeks.  I  was  broken- 
hearted to  see  many  replacements  and  find  some  of 
the  brave  men  that  I  had  known  and  liked  two 
months  before — gone  out  of  the  cast  of  the  Big 
Show — their  roles  being  played  by  others  undoubt- 
edly just  as  fine  and  brave,  but  I  am  very  faithful  to 
my  friends  and  I  must  admit  that  after  the  show 
I  went  to  my  room  and  had  one  of  the  best  tear 
feasts  I  ever  had — then  by  way  of  contrast  I  came 
down  to  witness  a  show  that  the  boys  gave  for  me, 
and  had  some  of  the  best  laughs  I  ever  had.  It 
was  a  splendid  show — some  of  the  jokes  were  very 
much  for  "  gents  only  "  and  it  was  funny  to  hear 
the  dear  boys  trying  to  change  them  to  suit  the 
feminine  point  of  view.  That  night  the  Boche 
came  snooping  around — but  in  the  air  only — the 


FOLLOWING  THE  HURRYING  HUNS       183 

ones  who  had  feet  were  showing  speed  that  would 
have  made  a  Packard  twin-six  look  like  a  snail. 

The  next  day  we  left,  after  lunch,  for  the  Front, 
which  was  moving  so  fast  that  it  was  hard  to  catch. 
We  passed  through  the  world-famous  town  of 
Chateau-Thierry — and  no  matter  what  the  Ger- 
mans did  to  the  town  in  order  to  get  in,  the  Yanks 
did  twice  as  much  in  order  to  get  them  out.  We 
saw  one  bridge  or  rather  the  place  where  one  bridge 
had  been  before  the  Y'anks  saw  it,  and  one  of  the 
boys  told  us  that  when  the  Americans  got  ready  to 
stop  the  traffic  over  same,  a  French  officer,  almost 
in  tears,  said,  "  It  took  us  eleven  years  to  build  it." 
A  Yankee  gunner  said,  "  Well,  it  will  take  us  eleven 
seconds  to  ruin  it,"  and  proceeded  to  do  it — with 
one  healthy  boom! 

W^e  went  on  up,  passing  camion  after  camion 
filled  with  our  men,  going  into  the  show.  They 
were  absolutely  white  with  dust,  bumping  along 
the  shell-shot  roads — chins  well  out — and  singing 

"  Hail,  hail,  the  gang's  all  here,  so  what  the  h , 

etc." 

We  went  through  one  tiny  village  that  changed 
hands  seven  times  in  one  day — it  looked  it,  and  I 
couldn't  help  wondering  why  anyone  wanted  it. 
We  arrived  at  two  up  back  of  the  forest  of  Fere- 
en-Tardenois,  where  I  gave  my  show  for  one  of  the 
finest  divisions  that  ever  faced  the  Germans.  I 
have  made  it  a  rule  not  to  mention  the  names  or 


184  THE  BIG  SHOW 

numbers  of  divisions,  so  I  won't  make  an  exception, 
but  I  may  say  that  the  name  of  the  particular  gang 
of  heroes  suggested  a  lot  of  colors.  No !  you  could 
never  guess. 

The  show  was  in  the  center  of  a  battlefield  where 
they  had  fought — I  gave  it  on  a  German  lorry  that 
they  had  captured,  and  the  ground  was  still  strewn 
with  helmets,  rifles,  hand  grenades,  and  other  things 
belonging  to  Huns  that  they  had  killed.  They  had 
very  thoughtfully  taken  the  Germans  or  what  was 
left  of  them  away. 

The  German  lorry  moaned  and  squeaked  under 
me  as  if  its  morale  was  like  everything  else  Ger- 
man— and  I  trembled  for  fear  it  might  also  start 
running  nach  Deutschland! 

I  never  saw  so  many  shells  and  aerial  torpedoes. 
It  looked  as  if  the  Boche  must  have  left  more  of 
them  behind  than  all  the  Allies  ever  had,  but  know- 
ing the  Hun  and  his  diabolical  ways,  no  one  was 
for  taking  an  aerial  torpedo  as  a  souvenir  for 
fear  it  might  turn  out  to  be  a  headstone  in  dis- 
guise. 

I  gave  an  hour's  show  and  afterwards  the  boys 
gave  me  everything  from  a  rifle  to  a  copy  of 
Nietzsche  which  some  Boche  had  left  behind.  I 
suppose  he  decided  it  was  a  bit  late  to  read 
philosophy. 

We  could  hear  the  guns  only  occasionally,  and 
when  I  remarked  about  it  one  of  the  men  said,  "  If 


FOLLOWING  THE  HURRYING  HUNS      185 

the  wind  was  only  from  the  east  you  could  hear  a 
concerted  chorus  of  '  Kamerad  ' !  " 

We  came  back  to  La  Fert^  by  another  route, 
passing  through  Vaux — which  had  not  one  house 
standing  and  no  walls  over  three  or  four  feet  high. 
The  next  morning  at  eight  o'clock  we  left  La  Fert^, 
stopped  at  St,  Dizier  for  lunch,  went  on  riding 
through  the  battlefield  of  the  Marne,  where  hun- 
dreds of  little  white  crosses  nestle  among  the  sway- 
ing wheat  and  have  done  so  for  four  years — brave 
Frenchmen  who  have  become  an  unforgettable  back- 
ground to  the  world's  greatest  drama. 

We  arrived  at  our  old  homestead,  the  Hotel  de  la 
Com^die  at  Toul,  at  five.  Went  to  our  same  rooms 
on  the  top  floor  three  flights  up,  changed  to  my 
working  clothes  and  went  out  to  Francheville,  gave 
one  show  there  outdoors,  and  it  being  Sunday  all 
the  villagers  turned  out  and  almost  shoved  the 
Yanks  off  the  road  trying  to  see  the  actress;  from 
there  we  went  on  over  to  Headquarters  of  — st 
Division  at  Griscourt,  dined  with  General  B.  and 
staff — this  general  is  "  some  guy  " — he  has  the 
French  Legion  of  Honor  and  the  Croix  de  Guerre — 
is  famous  for  having  led  his  men  over  the  top  at 
Cantigny.  This  division  has  been  very  busy  and 
has  had  terrific  losses,  but  the  light  in  their  eyes 
is  still  one  hundred  candle-power. 

I  gave  the  show  on  a  couple  of  tables  in  front 
of  Headquarters,  which  I  must  not  neglect  to  re- 


186  THE  BIG  SHOW 

mark  was  not  a  chateau.  Fine  bunch !  and  just  as 
good  singers  as  they  are  scrappers. 

Home  and  to  bed. 

Next  day  after  lunch  we  went  to  Nancy — ^who  is 
looking  more  shot  to  pieces  than  before,  but  who  is 
flourishing  from  a  monetary  point  of  view.  The 
Yanks  have  come ! 

Went  through  Nancy  up  towards  the  front  to 
Headquarters  of  — d  Division.  One  show  at  five — 
the  morale  of  these  men  is  perfectly  splendid.  They 
have  lost  and  lost  and  have  hundreds  of  replace- 
ments and  still  they  are  "  rearin'  to  go." 

I  never  heard  fellows  sing  better — I  asked  what 
they  wanted  to  sing,  and  they  yelled  "  The  Pay 
Roll,"  which,  for  the  benefit  of  those  who  don't 
know  that  refined  ditty,  is  a  strong  favorite  in  the 
A.E.F.  and  is  sung  with  feeling  to  the  tune  of 
"  Glory,  glory,  hallelujah !  ",  as  follows : 

All  we  do  is  sign  the  pay  roll. 
All  we  do  is  sign  the  pay  roll, 
All  we  do  is  sign  the  pay  roll, 
And  we  never  get  a  G d cent ! 

They  started  to  sing  it,  and  when  they  came  to 
the  finish  they  suddenly  realized  that  there  were 
ladies  present  and  it  died  away  in  a  sort  of  moan. 
So  I  said,  "  What's  the  big  idea?  I  know  that  song 
and  if  you  can  sing  it  to  yourselves  you  can  sing  it 
to  me,  I'm  in  the  A.E.F."    And  so  I  started  them 


FOLLOWING  THE  HURRYING  HUNS      187 

again  and  they  sang  it — an  unexpurgated  render- 
ing that  was  thrilling !  I  don't  approve  of  the  ex- 
pression as  a  password,  but  I  approve  of  anything 
that  our  fellows  want  to  say  or  do — and  you  will 
never  know  the  splendor  of  the  American  Na- 
tional swear  until  you  hear  two  thousand  huskies 
who  have  faced  hell  and  are  looking  for  more  sing 
in  unison 

"  And  we  never  get  a  G d cent ! " 

I'm  sure  it  would  never  be  counted  as  a  regular 
"  swear  "  by  the  great  Judge  of  all  transgressors. 

From  there  we  went  to  dinner  with  General  L. 
I'm  beginning  to  think  we  ought  to  win  the  War 
on  General  principles — they  are  all  such  regular  he 
men.  After  dinner  we  went  to  Marbach,  where  the 
Marines  had  built  a  splendid  big  platform  deco- 
rated with  flags  and  even  a  couple  of  plaster  of 
Paris  busts  of  French  heroes.  It  v/as  getting  dark, 
so  they  turned  a  couple  of  motor  searchlights  on 
me — and  when  those  lights  hit  me,  side  view,  I  think 
the  Marines  saw  more  of  me  than  any  other  soldiers 
ever  saw — but  all  in  a  good  cause,  said  I ! 

They  had  a  band  that  was  beyond  description, 
saxophones  and  everything — and  when  they  played 
"  Madelon,"  the  great  French  marching  song,  I'm 
sure  I  saw  the  plaster  of  Paris  French  heroes  sway- 
ing in  time  to  the  music. 


188  THE  BIG  SHOW 

We  came  back  through  Nancy  just  as  the  Huns 
started  their  nightly  bombing  f  est — and,  believe  me, 
the  Cadillac  broke  all  records  from  Nancy  to 
Toul. 

We  got  home  safely,  climbed  wearily  upstairs, 
and  I  was  sitting  thanking  St.  Somebody  who  pro- 
tects us  from  bombs  for  seeing  us  through  when 
all  of  a  sudden  the  lights  went  out  and  the  sirene 
started  to  moan. 

Did  I  ever  say  I  had  been  in  air  raids  in  Paris? 
Well,  I  take  it  back.  No  one  has  ever  been  in  a 
real  raid  until  they  have  been  in  one  in  a  little 
French  town  that  is  so  old  that  it's  ready  to  fall 
from  sheer  fatigue.  We  lit  candles  and  waited,  but 
not  long.  A  church  bell  began  to  toll  drearily, 
which  meant  that  the  Germans  were  over  the  town. 
I  figured  it  out  that  the  church  bell  tolled  to  prove 
that  one  man  in  town  was  brave  enough  to  stay 
aboveground  because  the  rush  for  the  caves  by  the 
French  was  something  that  must  be  seen  to  be 
believed.  I  learned  later  that  the  man  who  tolled 
the  bell  was  also  underground.     Some  rope! 

Of  course  it  is  the  law,  and  any  one  of  the  vil- 
lagers found  out  collecting  bombs  after  the  church 
bell  rings  gets  fined  if  he  lives. 

Mother  was  all  for  seeing  the  show,  so  we  put  out 
the  candles  and  stepped  out  onto  the  balcony,  and 
there  they  were  flying  low  enough  to  place  a  bomb 
on  your  eyebrow  with  ease. 


FOLLOWING  THE  HURRYING  HUNS      189 

The  defenses  of  Toul  are  nil — because  some 
"  boob  "  started  the  story  that  there  was  a  friendly 
arrangement  by  which  Toul  would  not  be  bombed. 
Twenty-six  bombs  was  the  German  idea  of  friendli- 
ness— and  every  one  that  fell  made  Toul  sit  up  and 
"  shake  the  shimmy."  I  let  Mother  see  the  air- 
planes, but  when  I  saw  that  the  Toul  defenses  con- 
sisted of  a  couple  of  machine  guns  on  the  roofs  of 
two  trembling  houses  I  led  her  gently  but  firmly 
indoors  and  downstairs  into  a  pitch-dark  hall — 
where  the  only  drunken  Yank  I  ever  met  in  France 
was  making  more  noise  than  all  the  bombs. 

So  up  we  went  again. 

Suddenly  silence — sighs  of  relief — exit  church 
bell — enter  lights.  All  clear !  Sighs  of  relief  from 
mother  and  child — back  to  the  dressing-table,  hair 
brush  in  one  hand,  kid  curlers  clasped  between 
rather  shaky  thumb  and  forefinger — dash,  dot,  dash, 
dot — lights  out — sirdne — church  bell — They're  in 
again — that  they  should  raid  was  natural,  but  that 
they  should  play  a  return  date  was  rude.  The  two 
raids  lasted  an  hour  and  ten  minutes  by  the  clock 
and  two  years  and  a  half  in  my  mind.  They  did 
quite  a  lot  of  material  damage,  but  killed  no  one — 
which  was  extraordinary  and  proves  the  French 
theory  that  a  bird  in  the  cave  is  worth  two  in  the 
street. 

We  woke  the  next  morning  feeling  not  a  day 
more  than  a  hundred  and  eight  apiece,  and  left 


190  THE  BIG  SHOW 

Toul  to  bask  in  all  the  German  friendship  she 
wanted. 

At  noon  we  arrived  at  Sommeilles,  and  after  see- 
ing the  place  I  was  quite  convinced  that  there  is 
something  in  the  superstition  about  thirteen,  be- 
cause the  men  that  were  there  and  had  been  there 
for  months  were  the  Thirteenth  Engineers.  They 
had  written  me  asking  me  to  come,  and  they  cer- 
tainly were  the  most  grateful  bunch  I  ever  played 
for.  We  lunched  with  them  and  then  gave  the 
show.  Only  half  of  them  had  the  misfortune  to  be 
sunk  there,  so  after  lunch  we  went  on  over  to  the 
other  half  at  a  place  called  Fleury,  which  despite 
its  pretty  name  only  strengthened  my  opinion 
about  thirteen.  Fleury  was  right  back  of  Verdun, 
and  as  our  show  was  scheduled  for  after  dinner  we 
had  an  hour  or  so.  And  we  did  the  only  bit  of 
sightseeing  that  we  did  while  in  France — we  got 
passes  and  went  up  to  see  Verdun.  I  only  hope 
that  after  the  war  the  French  will  keep  that  glori- 
ous monument  intact  for  the  benefit  of  touring 
Americans,  because  Verdun  is  really  a  picturesque 
ruin — with  its  charming  old  walls  and  its  buildings 
not  entirely  demolished,  but  not  one  as  far  as  we 
could  see  had  been  missed.  The  town  was  abso- 
lutely deserted  except  for  a  few  fat  poilus  who 
were  swimming  and  paddling  about  in  the  little 
river  which  was  floTving  peacefully  along  at  the 
foot  of  the  grand  citadel.    I  should  not  have  known 


:-r/ 


!> 


FOLLOWING  THE  HURRYING  HUNS      191 

that  they  were  fat  but  for  the  fact  that  just  as  we 
drove  up  to  the  citadel  we  heard  Boche  'planes 
overhead,  and  we  all  rushed  to  see  what  was  doing ! 
Two  lovelj'^  silver  'planes  apparently  en  route  for 
heaven  got  well  up  above  an  observation  balloon 
and  dove  on  it  simultaneously.  The  observer 
dropped  gracefully  out  in  a  parachute — the  anti- 
aircraft guns  barked  madly — the  Boches  ran  home 
— but  the  balloon  remained  silhouetted  against  the 
summer  sky.  Evidently  the  Germans  flew  better 
than  they  shot.  The  observer  came  slowly  down 
and  landed  on  the  top  of  a  tree — the  poilus,  who  had 
all  emerged  from  the  river  to  see  the  show  (that's 
how  I  knew  they  were  fat),  all  went  back  to  their 
swimming,  and  Verdun  slept  again — I  asked  one 
fat  poilu,  the  only  one  who  was  wearing  anything 
but  the  river,  if  the  Boche  came  over  often.  He 
said  No !  that  it  was  a  great  treat  for  them,  as  noth- 
ing exciting  ever  happened  in  Verdun  now!  Poor 
long-suffering  town !  It  has  certainly  earned  a  bit 
of  peace. 

We  came  back  to  Fleury — dined  and  gave  the 
show.  For  the  first  time,  I  co-starred,  as  there  was 
a  splendid  quartette  of  Young  Christians  who 
helped  me  out  a  lot.  We  left  right  after  my  part  of 
the  entertainment  and  started  for  Paris.  Every- 
one said  we  would  never  make  it  that  night — but 
they  did  not  know  the  Cadillac.  We  arrived  in 
Paris  at  one  in  the  morning,  having  traveled  along 


192  THE  BIG  SHOW 

without  any  lights  at  all — over  the  most  terrible 
roads  and  with  a  terrible  battle  going  on.  The 
sky  was  ablaze  with  Very  lights,  star-shells,  etc. 
As  we  drew  nearer  to  Paris  it  all  faded  away  like 
a  dream,  and  I  suddenly  realized  with  a  heavy 
heart  that  I  had  perhaps  seen  my  last  show  for 
some  time — as  we  were  to  leave  France  almost  im- 
mediately. 

The  next  day  the  news  about  the  Yanks  was  so 
splendid  that  I  sent  a  telegram  to  the  "  Boss  Gen- 
eral "  saying  "  Congratulations  on  your  great  show 
— sorry  I  am  not  in  the  cast — hope  to  join  the  com- 
pany in  Berlin."    And  I  really  meant  it. 

My  idea  was  to  go  to  England  for  three  or  four 
months,  grab  as  much  money  as  the  income  tax 
collectors  would  allow  and  go  back  to  the  Big 
Show! 


CHAPTER  XI 
The  A.E.F.  in  England 

SOMEONE  said  once  that  my  heart  was  like  an 
artichoke,  a  leaf  for  everyone.  Well,  if  that 
is  true,  said  artichoke  was  certainly  left  in 
France  for  our  boys  to  do  with  as  they  liked,  even 
to  playing  "  She  loves  me — She  loves  me  not  "  with 
the  leaves.  When  we  got  back  to  England  and  I 
knew  that  I  had  to  start  playing  for  money  instead 
of  love  I  had  no  interest  in  life,  but  after  two 
weeks  there  I  realized  that  it  was  to  be  a  happy 
combination  of  love  and  money,  because  there  were 
hundreds  of  Yanks  in  England  and  thousands  pass- 
ing through  every  day  en  route  to  France,  so  I  be- 
gan to  cheer  up.  The  show  was  called  "  Hullo, 
America!  "  and  I  filled  it  full  of  American  songs, 
and  myself  pereonally  blew  off  a  lot  of  my  war 
steam  in  a  song  which  I  wrote  and  sang  called 
"  When  I  Take  My  Jazz  Band  to  the  Fatherland." 
This  is  the  chorus: 

Oh,  say  can  you  see 

What's  going  to  happen  in  the  streets  of  Berlin, 
Over  there,  Over  there.  Over  there? 
193 


194  THE  BIG  SHOW 

We're  going  to  jazz  'em,  jazz  'em  up  for  fair; 

Instead  of  sitting  drinking  Bock, 

They're  going  to   learn  to  eagle  rock, 

Every  Fritz  and  Herman 

Will  have  to  jazz  in  German. 

Take  it  from  me, 

We're  going  to  say, 

"  Now,  here's  your  chance,  dance — 

'Way  down  South  in  the  Land  of  Cotton ! " 

Wacht  am  Rhein 

Will  be  forgotten 

When  I  take  my  jazz  band  to  the  Fatherland. 

That  song  became  the  talk  of  London,  and  the  word 
"jazz,"  which  was  new  to  the  British,  became  a 
household  necessity.  Papers  wrote  editorials  about 
it,  duchesses  discussed  it,  bus  girls  buzzed  about 
it,  and  dancing  teachers  reaped  the  harvest  by  in- 
sisting that  "  jazz  "  was  a  dance,  then  proceeded  to 
teach  the  innocent  but  inquiring  English  the  "  jazz 
roll,"  something  w^e  never  saw  or  tried  to  do,  an 
acrobatic  atrocity ;  then  preachers  started  to  preach 
about  the  immorality  of  this  dance,  and  of  course 
America  had  to  take  the  blame.  I  spent  most  of 
my  time  explaining  that  jazz  was  a  form  of  music 
and  not  a  dance ;  but  what  chance  had  I  with  about 
a  hundred  dancing  teachers,  raking  in  the  first 
money  they  had  raked  since  1914,  saying  I  was  mis- 
taken? It  ended  by  several  English  managers 
bringing  over  several  real  jazz  bands,  and  the  Brit- 


THE  A.E.F.  IN  ENGLAND  195 

ish  are  still  gasping.  They  say  the  ear  specialists 
of  London  are  going  to  present  me  with  a  medal 
for  introducing  jazz  to  London. 

"  Hullo,  America !  "  was  about  the  biggest  suc- 
cess I've  ever  had,  and  I  was  of  course  delighted, 
but  my  real  joy  was  that  on  Sunday  I  gave  regular 
shows  for  regular  roughneck  Yanks,  and  on  the 
days  when  we  had  no  matinees  I  went  to  the  hos- 
pitals, where  I  found  my  own  boys,  who  when  I 
appeared  in  the  wards  would  yell  "  Hello !  Elsie, 
remember  Houdezeele?  ",  or  "  I  saw  you  up  in  Bel- 
gium." That  sent  me  into  the  theater  at  night 
with  speed  enough  to  stagger  Ralph  de  Palma.  On 
Sundays  Sir  Alfred  Butt  and  the  committee  who 
helped  amuse  our  boys  in  London  were  still  giving 
wonderful  shows  at  the  Palace.  One  Sunday  night 
General  B.,  who  was  the  big  boss  of  the  A.E.F.  in 
England  and  who  made  anything  I  wanted  to  do 
for  the  boys  possible,  had  a  real  jazz  band  of  choco- 
late hue  brought  up  to  London,  and  I  sang  my  song 
about  taking  my  jazz  band  to  the  Fatherland,  and 
then  led  them  out.  Oh !  boy,  what  a  night !  I  went 
wild  leading  them.  It  was  the  first  band  I  had  led 
since  leaving  France,  and  in  my  mind  I  was  back 
plodding  along  a  dusty  French  road.  We  certainly 
jarred  the  roof  of  the  Palace  even  if  we  couldn't 
blow  it  off.  After  the  show  they  marched  down  the 
streets  playing  "  Over  There  "  as  if  they  were  walk- 
ing down  tile  Unter  den  Linden.    If  you  have  never 


196  THE  BIG  SHOW 

been  in  London  on  Sunday ;  if  ^ou  don't  know  that 
Philadelphia  on  Sunday  is  a  wide-open  mining- 
town  compared  to  London  on  that  same  day,  then 
you  will  never  understand  the  super-joy  of  seeing 
and  hearing  fifty  black-faced,  white-hearted  sons 
of  Southern  salubrity  hoofing  it  down  Shaftesbury 
Avenue,  London,  England,  Sunday  night  and  get- 
ting away  with  it;  but  then  between  the  Colonial 
troops  and  the  Yanks  who  were  blowing  in  and  out 
of  poor  old  London  on  leave,  that  dignified  and 
lovely  citj^  was  rather  like  Carrie  Nation  might 
have  been  in  the  act  of  mixing  a  Clover  Club  cock- 
tail—baffled. 

On  leaving  France  I  had  written  a  letter  to  the 
A.E.F.  in  France  which  was  published  in  that 
wonderful  paper  the  "  Stars  and  Stripes,"  and  I 
told  the  fellows  to  keep  up  the  good  work  while  I 
went  to  get  some  money  in  England  and  that  we 
would  be  back  in  the  spring;  that  if  they  wanted 
anything  that  I  could  get  for  them,  to  write  to  me, 
so  that  all  the  time  I  was  in  England  I  ran  opposi- 
tion to  the  Quartermaster  Corps.  They  wrote  to 
me  for  everything  from  dice  to  evening  gowns,  and 
they  got  them.  The  evening  gowns  were  for  the 
"  leading  ladies  "  in  their  shows.  I  sent  out  nine 
altogether,  and  finally  one  night  when  I  wanted  to 
"  step  out "  to  a  party  I  had  to  borrow  one  of  my 
theater  gowns,  but  all  in  a  good  cause.  The  "  lead- 
ing ladies "  must  be  clothed  at  the  Front,  even 


THE  A.E.F.  IN  ENGLAND  197 

though  the  ones  at  home  are  not  clothed  at  tke 
front  or  the  back. 

If  it  had  not  been  for  the  A.E.F.  in  England, 
we  would  surely  have  lost  what  little  flesh  still 
remained  on  our  somewhat  weary  bones.  As  it 
was,  we  got  quite  a  lot  of  forbidden  fruit,  such  as 
sugar,  jam,  Uneeda  biscuits,  etc.  One  friend  of 
ours.  Captain  S.,  used  to  arrive  about  once  a  week 
looking  like  Santa  Claus  laden  with  goodies  which 
our  boys  in  the  camps  where  I  was  working  would 
send  to  us.  They  took  turns  going  without  sugar 
for  a  day,  in  order  to  collect  enough  to  send  up  to 
Elsie  and  Mother.  Anything  I  may  have  done  for 
them  was  certainly  more  than  repaid  by  that  little 
thought  alone. 

In  one  part  of  "  Hullo,  America ! "  I  did  a  spe- 
cialty in  which  I  told  some  of  my  war  stories  and 
sang  "  Give  me  the  moonlight,  give  me  the  boy,  and 
leave  the  rest  to  me  " ;  then  sang  it  as  the  different 
soldiers  would  sing  it.  I  am  going  to  quote  three 
of  them,  as  I've  so  many  requests  from  the  boys  for 
the  words.    The  original  song  was  like  this : 

Give  me  the  moonlight, 
Give  me  the  boy, 

And  leave  the  rest  to  me ; 
Give  me  a  bench  for  two, 
Where  we  can  bill  and  coo. 

And  no  one  can  see; 
Give  me  a  shady  nook, 


198  THE  BIG  SHOW 

Give  me  a  babbling  brook 

In  close  proximity; 
It's  a  very  ancient  game, 
But  it  always  works  the  same. 
Give  me  the  moonlight, 
Give  me  the  boy, 

And  leave  the  rest  to  me. 

Then  followed  the  way  the  German  aviators  would 
sing  it: 

Give  me  the  moonlight, 
Give  me  some  bombs, 

And  leave  the  rest  to  me; 
Give  me  a  church  or  two, 
A  hospital  will  do, 

Oder  vielleicht  a  nursery; 
Give  me  a  mother  there, 
Hearing  her  baby's  prayer, 

Und  I  will  laugh  with  glee; 
There's  no  military  loss. 
But  I  get  the  iron  cross. 
So  give  me  the  moonlight. 
Give  me  some  bombs, 

Und  leave  the  rest  to  me. 

Boom !    Boom ! 

The  way  the  colored  soldier  would  sing  it: 

Gib  me  de  moonlight, 
Show  me  de  hen. 

And  leave  de  rest  to  me; 
Gib  me  a  coop  or  two. 


THE  A.E.F.  IN  ENGLAND  199 

Where  little  chickens  bill  and  coo, 

And  nobody  can  see; 
Gib  me  a  frying  pan, 
I  fry  like  no  man  can, 

O  Lordyl  for  one  fricassee. 
It's  a  very  easy  game, 
'Cause  dese  French  chickens  is  tame. 
Gib  me  de  moonlight, 
Show  me  de  hen, 

And  leave  de  rest  to  me. 

Unless  you  have  seen  the  Yanks  in  France  and  have 
witnessed  the  triumph  of  "  American  Arms  ' '  you 
can't  imagine  how  tame  those  French  "  chickens  " 
were.    As  our  boys  used  to  say — Ah,  ouiH! 

After  about  two  months  in  London  I  was  getting 
quite  contented.  I  met  the  boys  sometimes  down 
at  different  camps,  just  when  they  had  arrived  from 
home  and  were  on  their  way  to  the  Big  Show. 
I  gave  them  the  same  sort  of  shows  that  I  gave 
in  France  and  always  ended  up  by  telling  them 
that  I  would  see  them  "  over  there ' '  in  the  early 
spring,  and  I  meant  it,  because  when  we  left  France 
the  most  optimistic  of  optimists  said  the  War  would 
not  end  before  spring,  and  I  was  living  or  rather 
existing  with  the  idea  of  getting  back  to  my  gang 
and  to  see  the  finish.  Then  all  of  a  sudden  things 
began  to  happen  in  France;  word  came  that  the 
Germans  were  "^  kaput."  We  had  heard  that  before, 
and  all  England  was  incredulous.  A  few  days  later 
— "  The  Germans  Ask  for  Armistice !  "    "  Don't  kid 


200  THE  BIG  SHOW 

us,"  we  said  in  England ;  "  there  is  a  catch  in  it " — 
but  we  were  wrong.  On  Saturday,  November  9th, 
the  world  knew  that  armistice  would  be  signed.  On 
Monday,  and  on  Sunday,  November  10th,  I  made 
my  usual  trip  to  a  camp ;  this  time  to  Winchester, 
where  I  sang  for  three  thousand  Yanks  who  had 
just  arrived  from  home  on  an  influenza-laden  ship. 
Some  of  the  poor  boys  never  even  reached  South- 
ampton. They  had  all  the  work  and  struggles  of 
rehearsing  lor  the  Big  Show  and  never  got  to 
play  their  parts.  That  to  me  was  the  saddest  thing 
in  the  whole  War.  Those  boys  at  Winchester  on 
Armistice  Sunday  never  saw  France,  and  of  all  the 
shows  I  ever  gave,  that  one  was  the  most  difficult. 
I'll  take  shell-fire,  bombs  or  even  gas  rather  than 
face  a  battery  of  disappointed  young  faces.  I  knew 
that  if  I  talked  about  my  experiences  in  France 
they  would  feel  it,  and  I  could  not  say  ''  when  you 
get  over  there,"  because  in  my  heart  I  knew  they 
would  never  know  the  joys  of  sleeping  in  billets 
where  chickens,  pigs  and  goats  tell  you  to  "  move 
over " ;  of  having  six  or  seven  tiny  French  kids 
hanging  on  their  necks,  legs  and  arms,  all  crying 
'^  Yivent  Ics  Americains!  ";  to  drink  a  glass  of  de- 
licious ink  known  as  Tin  Rouge,  and  served  by  a 
bright-eyed,  black-haired  Madelon  who  still  blushes 
when  he  "  chucks "  her  under  her  pretty  chin, 
despite  the  fact  that  at  least  four  hundred  thou- 
sand eight  hundred  and  forty-two  soldiers  have 


THE  A.E.F.  IN  ENGLAND  201 

given  her  the  same  sort  of  "  chuck ' '  under  that 
same  pretty  chin.  Oh  I  I  did  feel  sorry  for  those 
boys,  but  we  got  along  somehow,  and  they  had  a 
good  band  which  played  just  as  if  it  was  leading 
them  into  battle,  but  I  went  back  to  London  thor- 
oughly depressed. 

All  the  time  we  had  been  in  London  I  had  been 
longing  for  an  air  raid;  that  sounds  like  bravado 
in  its  most  advanced  stage,  but  I  really  longed  to 
see  the  British  public  in  a  raid.  I  had  heard  how 
they  never  moved  in  the  theater,  how  the  play  went 
on  even  though  the  dialogue  was  punctuated  by 
bombs,  and  I  wanted  a  chance  to  show  them  that 
I  "  belonged,"  as  it  were.  So  as  the  fall  moon  grew 
to  look  like  a  snow-covered  pumpkin  I  waited  and 
hoped,  but  all  in  vain.  On  the  morning  of  the  11th 
of  November  I  was  dreaming  that  I  was  standing 
on  the  Palace  stage  singing  "  Give  me  the  moon- 
light, give  me  the  boy,  etc.";  bombs  were  falling 
on  all  sides  and  the  audience  was  so  still  it  seemed 
to  be  asleep.  I  was  making  heroic  efforts  to  appear 
calm,  while  inside  of  me  my  "  tummy  "  was  making 
vain  attempts  to  come  up  for  air.  Boom!  went  a 
bomb  rather  faintly,  and  I  opened  one  eye ;  Boom  ! 
again,  stronger  this  time — I  opened  the  other  eye. 
BOOM!  once  more,  and  then  I  realized  that  those 
booms  meant  the  end  of  all  air  raids,  they  were 
the  signal  to  tell  London  that  the  Armistice  was 
signed.    At  that  moment  London  went  mad.    Every- 


202  THE  BIG  SHOW 

one  who  reads  this  was  naturally  somewhere  at 
that  time,  and  of  course  people  went  mad  wherever 
that  somewhere  happened  to  be,  but  there  is  some- 
thing extraordinary  about  English  people  going 
mad.  We  Americans  or  the  Latins  have  not  so 
far  to  go,  but  for  the  British  it  is  some  trip,  and 
they  made  it.  The  earth  suddenly  opened  and  mil- 
lions of  human  ants  swarmed  the  streets,  buildings, 
trams,  and  even  flagpoles.  From  the  fourth  floor 
of  the  Carlton  where  we  lived  we  hung  out  of  the 
windows  dazed.  I  could  not  yell,  I  was  numb. 
Those  ants  had  horns,  whistles,  flags,  balloons.  I 
counted  fifteen  people  clinging  to  one  taxi.  Air- 
planes appeared  from  nowhere,  and  all  but  came 
down  to  pick  up  passengers.  I  closed  the  window 
and  tried  to  shut  it  all  out.  It  seemed  so  unbeliev- 
able! Millions  of  people  praying  for  one  thing  for 
five  endless  years, — suddenly  that  prayer  is  an- 
swered, and  they  show  their  gratitude  by  blowing 
tin  horns  and  breaking  their  fellow  creatures'  arms 
and  legs.  Why  when  those  booms  boomed  did  we 
not  all  fall  on  our  knees  in  awe  and  unspeakable 
gratitude,  as  the  heathens  used  to  do  when  miracles 
were  performed?  Ah !  but  we  are  not  heathens,  we 
are  civilized  and  civilization  knows  how  to  ask  but 
not  how  to  receive.  Really,  Miss  Janis,  you  had 
better  throw  your  beard  over  your  shoulders  before 
it  trips  you,  besides  perhaps  one  can  say  a  little 
prayer  and  blow  a  horn  at  the  same  time — who 


THE  A.E.F.  IN  ENGLAND  203 

knows?  Anyway,  I  found  Mother  in  her  room  weep- 
ing gratefully  and  silently.  I  went  into  mine  and 
wept  gratefully,  but  not  silently;  the  only  thing  I 
can  do  silently  is  sleep.  Up  to  time  of  going  to 
press  there  is  no  one  who  can  deny  that  somewhat 
boastful  assertion.  After  we  both  wept  our  weeps, 
I  went  to  the  piano  and  we  both  sang  a  little  hymn 
which  I  learned  as  a  kiddie  when  Mother  taught 
Sunday  school,  long  before  I  went  wrong,  for  be  it 
understood  in  those  days  anyone  "who  went  on  the 
stage  went  wrong — at  least  until  they  were  a  suc- 
cess. Someone  said,  "  Two  wrongs  don't  make  a 
right,  but  two  successes  will  go  a  long  way  towards 
righting  a  wrong."  The  hymn  of  my  childhood 
was  evidently  written  with  forethought,  as  it 
seemed  to  fit  the  situation: 

Peace,  Peace,  Sweet  Peace, 
Wonderful  gift  from  above, 
Wonderful,  wonderful  Peace, 
Sweet  Peace,  the  gift  of  God's  love. 

That  night  at  the  theater  the  audience  was 
strangely  well-behaved.  I  heard  great  tales  of 
rough-housing  in  other  theaters,  but  the  Palace 
audience  is  traditionally  comme  il  faut,  which  only 
makes  my  success  there  even  more  surprising. 
After  the  theater  that  night  we  were  invited  to  at 
least  six  joy  parties.     'We  looked  in  at  the  Ritz, 


204  THE  BIG  SHOW 

where  people  were  yelling,  lights  were  full  up,  and 
supper  and  liquids  were  in  evidence  for  the  first 
time  ia  four  years.  We  wanted  to  be  gay,  but  we 
could  not  make  the  grade,  so  we  sneaked  out  a  back 
door  through  a  plethora  of  drunken  waiters  and 
went  home.  As  we  sat  there  alone,  listening  to  the 
din  and  roar  of  peace,  which  sounded  much  more 
like  war  than  war  itself.  Mother  looked  at  me,  and 
I  looked  at  Mother;  then,  as  is  our  custom,  we 
"  split "  a  little  thought  between  us,  and  we  drank 
a  silent  toast  to  the  dear  men  who  had  gone,  but 
not  in  vain. 

From  that  time  on,  things  were  not  quite  the 
same  to  me;  something  seemed  to  have  snapped 
somewhere  in  the  region  of  where  my  heart  would 
have  been  if  I  had  not  left  it  in  France.  I  still 
went  to  hospitals  and  camps,  still  sang  of  taking 
my  jazz  band  to  the  Fatherland,  but  not  with  the 
same  vim,  because  I  knew  that  the  biggest  thing  in 
my  life  had  gone  out  of  it,  never  again  would  I 
sing  to  and  cheer  two  or  three  thousand  of  our 
wonderful  boys,  and  send  them  from  me  singing 
into  the  unknown.  I  was  glad  that  their  battles 
were  over,  but  I  was  selfish  enough  to  be  sorry  that 
my  work  which  gave  me  such  indescribable  and 
infinite  joy  was  ended. 

London  was  herself  again,  food  was  still  scarce, 
but  people  smiled  and  looked  with  joy  ahead  a  few 
montilis  to  the  time  when,  after  the  shadow  of  war 


THE  A.E.F.  IN  ENGLAND  205 

had  lifted,  they  would  go  forth  hands  outstretched 
into  the  light  and  grasp  a  pound  of  butter. 

Great  things  happened,  some  of  the  stars  of  the 
Big  War  honored  us.  The  glorious  old  man  of 
France,  Clemenceau,  came,  and  London  went  mad ; 
President  Wilson  came,  and  London  was  still  mad 
— not  at  the  President.  Haig  came;  Pershing  was 
billed,  but  canceled  his  appearance  because  the  Ger- 
mans were  slow  about  signing  their  peace  contracts. 
Hundreds  and  thousands  began  to  get  London 
leave;  Yanks  could  be  seen  standing  in  front  of 
Westminster  Abbey  with  that  "  you  ought  to  see 
the  Woolworth  Building  expression."  The  Palace, 
if  I  may  say  so  without  bragging,  was  the  first  place 
most  of  our  boys  went;  in  fact,  one  of  my  friends 
told  me  that  he  got  about  ten  telegrams  a  day  from 
fellows  in  France  and  Germany  saying  "  Coming 
on  leave;  get  me  seats  to  see  Elsie  Janis,  and  a 
place  to  sleep."  Maybe  I  was  not  all  "  stuck  up." 
I  left  word  at  the  stage  door  that  any  man  in  U.  S. 
uniform  was  to  come  right  up  and  no  questions 
asked.  And  they  came  laden  with  souvenirs;  they 
brought  everything  from  Germany  but  the  Rhine. 
General  O.  came,  and  I  took  him  out  to  the  big 
hospital  where  about  four  hundred  of  his  own  men 
were  still  regretting  the  fact  that  they  would  not 
be  able  to  get  even.  He  co-starred  with  me,  as  he 
was  some  yarn  spinner;  the  men  were  crazy  about 
him.    In  the  field  a  General  is  a  General,  but  in  a 


206  THE  BIG  SHOW 

hospital  he  is  only  a  human  being,  and  this  one 
was  all  that,  \\i.th  emphasis  on  the  human.  Speak- 
ing of  humans  and  he  men,  I  can't  resist  being  per- 
sonal just  for  a  minute  and  saying  that  we  Ameri- 
cans had  two  of  the  finest  examples  of  both  repre- 
senting us  in  London  that  were  ever  known,  Ad- 
miral S.  and  General  B.  Both  did  more  to  cement 
the  friendship  of  England  and  America  than  will, 
ever  be  known.  They  were  not  the  bragging, 
America-won-the-war  kind;  they  gave  credit  and 
took  it,  and  made  friends  right  and  left  and 
straight  ahead.  I  don't  say  this  because  they  were 
both  nice  to  us,  and  wrote  me  charming  letters 
thanking  me  for  my  work,  but  because  I  snooped 
about  and  heard  what  people  thought  of  them — a 
couple  of  live  wires  without  any  short  circuits. 

In  my  life  I've  met  quite  a  lot  of  important  per- 
sonages, so  I  don't  feel  inclined  to  brag,  but  I 
must  say  that  during  our  stay  in  England  this  time 
we  were  sort  of  thick  with  Royalty;  our  maid, 
Nancy,  had  an  aunt  who  had  a  husband  who  was 
second  coachman  to  the  King,  and  maybe  you  think 
we  were  not  au  courant  with  Court  circles,  but  you 
are  wrong ;  we  even  knew  that  Mrs.  Wilson's  apart- 
ment in  the  Buckingham  Palace  was  redecorated 
for  her,  in  mauve,  before  she  herself  knew  it.  Then 
I  had  a  chance  to  find  out  a  little  bit  about  Queens 
on  my  own — principally  that  they  are  just  regular 
women,  and  don't  wear  their  crowns  under  those 


THE  A.E.F.  IN  ENGLAND  207 

hats  that  look  as  if  there  was  something  under  them 
beside  ideas.  One  day  I  strolled  into  the  matinee 
a  bit  later  than  usual,  and  was  told  by  a  panting 
page  boy  that  "  Royalty  had  come,"  and  so  they 
had — Queen  Mary,  Queen  Alexandra,  her  sister, 
Queen  of  Norway,  the  Princess  Royal,  Princess 
Victoria,  Princess  Maud,  and  little  Prince  Olaf. 
Between  the  acts  the  manager  came  and  said 
that  they  wanted  to  see  me  in  the  Royal  box. 
I  said  that  I  could  not  go  because  I  had  a 
quick  change ;  he  said,  "  But  you  must  go,  we  will 
hold  the  curtain  " ;  and  so  with  nothing  on  but  a 
lavender  kimono,  and  very  little  of  that,  and  with 
my  Mary  Pickfords  flying  all  over  the  place,  I 
breezed  up  to  that  box  of  Queens.  I  had  heard 
something  about  people  having  to  bow  before  them, 
but  I  had  decided  to  pretend  I  did  not  know  it, 
because  if  I  had  ever  taken  a  bow  in  that  kimono, 
Prince  Olaf  would  have  been  embarrassed,  so  I 
went  into  the  little  room  at  the  back  of  the  box, 
holding  the  kimono  with  one  hand  and  the  curls 
with  the  other,  and  there  they  stood,  all  lined  up 
with  hands  outstretched.  Royalties  have  evidently 
learned  from  American  Missions  they  have  met  that 
to  visiting  Congressmen  and  other  important  visi- 
tors the  hand-shake  is  a  sign  of  friendship,  so  I 
did  not  want  them  to  think  I  was  not  as  important 
as  a  Congressman,  and  I  went  along  that  line  of 
Queens  shaking  hands  and  asking  them  how  they 


208  THE  BIG  SHOW 

were?  Silly  when  I  knew  they  were  royal,  and  in 
books  royal  folks  are  never  healthy.  As  I  came 
back  to  Queen  Alexandra,  who  is  perfectly  ador- 
able, and  despite  the  fact  that  people  say  she  has 
her  face  enameled  has  the  most  gorgeous  honest-to- 
God  smile  that  ever  put  anyone  at  ease,  pulled  one 
of  my  curls,  and  said :  "  Why,  they  don't  come  off, 
do  they?  "  I  murmured  something  to  the  effect 
that  if  they  would  come  off  for  anyone  they  would 
for  her,  and  edged  nearer  the  door.  "  I  must  get 
ready  for  the  next  act,"  I  said,  looking  at  them  all. 
They  said,  of  course  they  understood,  and  so  I  went 
over  and  shook  hands  again  with  Queen  Alexandra 
just  because  I  liked  her,  and  with  a  "  thanks,  your 
Majesty  "  I  did  a  Charlie  Chaplin  out  of  the  door. 
Someone  told  me  afterwards  I  should  not  have 
said  "  your  Majesty,"  but  should  have  said  "  M'am." 
How  should  I  know? — I  don't  claim  to  be  Palace- 
broken,  and  anyway  the  logical  abbreviation  for 
Majesty  should  be  Mag. 

The  time  was  drawing  near  for  us  to  go  home 
now,  and  I  began  to  pant  at  the  prospect.  "  Hullo, 
America!"  had  never  had  an  empty  seat,  and  of 
course  everyone  said  I  was  crazy  to  leave,  but  we 
had  been  away  a  year  and  five  months,  and  that's 
entirely  too  long  to  stay  away  from  home,  unless 
you  are  fighting  to  protect  that  same  home,  so  we 
began  to  prepare.  I  had  letters  asking  me  to  come 
up  to  the  boys  in  Germany,  but  my  life  in  France 


THE  A.E.F.  IN  ENGLAND  209 

had  been  so  wonderful  that  I  could  not  bear  the 
thought  of  just  going  around  and  comfortably  giv- 
ing shows,  and  then  anyway  the  boys  who  came  on 
leave  told  me  they  had  everything  that  they  wanted 
that  side  of  the  Atlantic,  so  we  got  ready  to  sail, 
and  had  a  splendid  plan  to  sail  from  Brest,  France, 
after  a  couple  of  days  in  Paris,  where  I  would  give 
two  shows  for  the  men  on  Paris  leave.  The  Rot- 
terdam, which  we  were  to  sail  on,  was  to  go  to 
Plymouth  and  then  to  Brest,  so  we  rushed  about, 
got  in  touch  wilth  Paris,  arranged  for  two  shows, 
and  as  many  as  I  could  give  at  Brest.  I  played  as 
long  as  I  could  at  the  Palace,  closed  on  Wednesday, 
got  ready  to  go  to  Paris  on  Saturday  and  sail 
from  Brest  the  following  Wednesday.  On  Satur- 
day at  four  (the  train  left  at  seven)  U.  S.  Head- 
quarters called  me  up  to  say  that  they  had  just  been 
notified  that  the  Rotterdam  had  gone  to  Brest  first 
and  would  come  to  Plymouth  Tuesday ! !  There  was 
nothing  to  do;  I  could  not  get  over  to  Paris  and 
back,  and  we  could  not  get  down  to  Brest  in  time. 
We  were  both  too  tired  to  swear,  even  if  it  was 
one  of  our  indoor  sports,  so  we  just  "  sat  and  sat " 
from  Saturday  until  Wednesdaj',  when  we  went  to 
Plymouth.  A  very  sad  ending  to  a  glorious  ad- 
venture. I  had  so  wanted  to  go  back  to  France  if 
only  for  three  days,  but  we  were  going  home,  which 
is  one  of  the  hardest  things  to  accomplish  in  these 
days,  for  even  if  the  steamship  companies  will  allow 


210  THE  BIG  SHOW 

you  to  sail,  the  American  passport  bureau  have  a 
right  to  resent  your  coming  home  and  leaving  them 
to  ask  questions.  They  were  wonderful  to  us  and 
they  did  not  even  question  why  we  were  coming 
home.  So  this  takes  us  to  Plymouth,  where  we  go 
out  in  a  tender  to  the  Rotterdam,  and  as  we  ap- 
proach the  enormous  neutral  sea  palace  what  do 
we  see — hanging  over  the  rails — Yanks!  Oh!  joy! 
Oh  rapture!  not  one  or  two,  but  hundreds  of  them, 
and  what  are  they  yelling — "  Hello,  Elsie !  How's 
dear  old  London?  "  Fini  la  guerre!  Yes,  la  guerre 
est  fini,  but  the  spirit  that  helped  to  finish  it  was 
hanging  over  the  rails  of  the  ship,  and  I  was  happy. 
After  all,  I  was  to  finish  as  I  began,  with  the  A.E.F., 
three  Generals,  three  hundred  officers  and  twenty- 
two  hundred  troops  on  board. 

Hip !  hip !  hooraj' !  we  were  back  in  the  Big  Show 
after  all  and  homeward  bound. 


CHAPTER  XII 

Home  AoAfN! 

WHEN  we  sailed  from  Plymouth  on  the  good 
ship  Rotterdam  homeward  bound,  my 
emotions  were  of  the  rainbow  variety.  I 
had  left  probably  the  biggest  success  of  my  life 
when  I  left  the  Palace  Theater,  London — ^left  it 
flat,  in  the  height  of  its  existence.  I  can't  say  that 
I  was  broken-hearted  over  that,  because  I  have  al- 
ways been  an  apostle  of  George  M.  Cohan's  in  his 
theory  of  going  while  the  going's  good,  and  even  if 
I  had  been  nothing  in  Europe,  not  even  the  Army  of 
Occupation  could  have  held  us  there,  because  we 
had  that  commonplace  disease  which  claimed  more 
victims  in  France  than  the  war  and  influenza  com- 
bined, homesickness.  We  were  the  exact  antithesis 
of  the  colored  soldier  who  was  one  of  a  crowd  of 
his  fellow-fighters  when  an  Army  chaplain,  talking 
to  them,  said,  "  Now,  just  remember,  boys,  no  mat- 
ter what  happens,  you  are  all  right,  and  Heaven 
is  your  home." 

Just  then  a  shell  knocked  part  of  the  roof  ofif. 
Our  colored  friend  started  to  run. 

911 


212  THE  BIG  SHOW 

"  What's  the  matter,  Mose?  "  said  the  chaplain. 
"  You  are  all  right." 

Mose  didn't  stop,  but  he  yelled  over  his  shoulder : 
"  D-d-dat's  all  right.  Chaplain,  I  know  Heaven  is 
ma  home,  but  I  ain't  homesick." 

He  was  not,  but  we  were,  and  so  when  we  boarded 
the  Rotterdam  it  did  not  seem  possible  we  could 
endure  nine  or  ten  days  before  we  really  got  home. 
I  was  delighted  to  be  with  troops  again,  but  I 
thought,,  one  can't  spend  all  day  and  all  night  with 
twenty-two  hundred  Yanks,  no  matter  how  uncon- 
ventional they  may  hope  they  are.  How  could  I 
drag  through  those  days? 

Did  I  drag?  No,  I  flew!  About  two  hours  off 
the  coast  of  England  I  met  a  T.A.G.  (terribly  at- 
tractive General),  the  one  who  had  shown  the 
French  what  to  do  with  railroads  in  France;  the 
one  who  had  won  a  lot  of  the  battles  of  life  before 
he  went  to  France,  and  who  put  the  final  crown  of 
laurels  on  his  nice  level  head  "  over  there,"  saying 
nothing  of  the  Legion  d'Honneur,  English  Order  of 
the  Bath,  and  the  best  decoration  America  could 
give  him,  on  his  chest.  I  could  write  an  entire  book 
about  this  big  man  and  his  big  doings,  but  I  have 
not  been  asked  to  write  a  book  to  be  entitled  "  Gen- 
erals I  Have  Loved."  However,  if  you  met  this  man, 
you  would  wonder  why  they  did  not  ask  him  to  go 
to  Russia,  for  if  he  did,  inside  of  two  weeks  he 
would  have  all  the  Bolshevists  working  on  the  rail- 


HOME  AGAIN!  213 

road  for  nothing,  except  perhaps  for  an  occasional 
smile,  the  kind  lie  has  a  copyright  on. 

Twelve  hours  out  I  had  met  two  more  T.A.G.'s; 
two  days  out  I  had  met  at  least  two  hundred  and 
eighty-nine  of  the  three  hundred  officers  on  board. 
Three  days  out  I  had  met  the  other  eleven.  Four 
days,  and  I  gave  a  show  for  a  thousand  of  the  boys 
in  second-class.  Five  days,  and  I  gave  another  for 
the  rest ;  six,  I  gave  a  show  for  the  T.A.G.'s,  officers, 
and  also-rans,  and  by  the  time  we  reached  Sandy 
Hook  I  was  trying  to  figure  out  how  I  could  lure 
the  Dutch  captain  of  the  Rotterdam  into  saying 
that  he  had  left  his  anchor  in  Holland,  or  dropped 
his  neutralit}^  in  the  Channel,  and  must  make  the 
trip  all  over  again.  We  really  did  have  a  most  won- 
derful voyage. 

When  I  sang  for  the  enlisted  men,  I  sang  them 
a  little  song  that  I  had  written  called  "  We're  Go- 
ing Home,"  which  went  like  this : 

We're  going  home. 

And  what  about  this  prohibition, 
When  we  get  back  home? 
It's  a  shame — who's  to  blame? 

Where's  the  liberty? 
Where's  the  land  that's  free? 

While  we  went  to  can  the  Kaiser, 
They  have  taken  away  Budweiser; 

But  we're  going  home. 
And  ask  them,  "  What's  the  big  idea?" 

Oh  I  yes,  we're  going  home, 


214  THE  BIG  SHOW 

It's  the  truth,  solemn  truth, 
We  got  the  Germans'  goat, 
And  now  we  want  to  vote, 
Because  we're  going  home. 


Reading  this,  one  might  think  I  was  a  champion 
long-distance  drinker,  but  I'm  not,  really;  only  I 
have  talked  to  so  many  of  the  boys  on  the  subject, 
and  knew  that  little  song  hit  the  nail  on  the  head 
for  them.  I've  been  with  them  enough  and  have 
seen  them  do  enough  great  things  to  think  that  they 
ought  to  have  whatever  they  want,  so  I  say  if  the 
boys  say  "  Prohibition ! "  let's  have  it,  and  smile. 
If  the  boys  say  "  We  want  beer !  "  I  say,  let's  have 
beer,  even  if  I  have  to  lead  a  nice  little  poison  gas 
bomb  into  the  Senate  myself. 

We  floated  into  Quarantine  about  six  in  the  eve- 
ning, and  then  began  the  endless  chain  of  arguments 
about  just  what  were  the  bits  of  land  we  could  see. 
I  have  crossed  the  ocean  some  twenty  times,  and  I 
have  never  yet  approached  New  York  without  some- 
one coming  up  and  pointing  out  the  points  of  inter- 
est on  the  welcoming  shores.  Personally,  the  only 
one  I  ever  recognized  is  Coney  Island,  and  this  time 
I  was  all  for  jumping  off  and  swimming  ashore,  and 
then  I  decided  that  after  living  through  France  and 
everything,  drowning  would  be  somewhat  banal, 
and  anj'way  the  T.A.G.  would  not  jump  with  me, 
so  I  went  to  dinner  instead. 


HOME  AGAIN!  215 

We  had  to  remain  on  board  that  night.  We 
could  see  New  York,  but  New  York  could  not  see 
us,  so  we  had  a  party,  and  I  am  surprised  that  New 
York  did  not  at  least  hear  us.  In  the  morning  at 
five-thirty,  I  who  never  wake  up  without  a  certain 
amount  of  gentle  but  firm  pei-suasion  bounded  from 
the  bunk  to  the  port-hole  in  one  leap.  We  were 
moving  up  that  sacred  river.  Every  time  I  sail 
away  from  America,  I  think  that  the  next  time  I 
come  home  I  won't  look  at  the  sky-line  of  New 
York,  because  I  get  so  tired  of  being  eternally 
astounded.  Each  time  I  think,  Next  time  Miss  Lib- 
erty will  leave  me  cold.  She  is  not  particularly 
attractive.  She's  not  in  style;  she  doesn't  even 
smile  and  say  "  Glad  you're  back,"  and  yet  the 
sight  of  her  is  the  cue  for  a  creeping  barrage  of 
tears  from  all  regular  Americans. 

We  approached  the  dock.  It  had  to  be  Hoboken, 
just  to  take  a  bit  of  the  joy  out  of  life.  The  Hol- 
land-American ships  have  to  land  at  the  former 
German  docks.  That's  what  they  get  for  being 
neutral ;  they  have  to  land  in  Hoboken.  I  stood  on 
deck,  thinking  how  wonderful  even  that  garden 
spot  was  looking,  when  all  at  once  I  heard  a  band 
playing  "  Ja  Da  " — that's  a  popular  tune,  not  a  col- 
lege yell — and  I  said  to  myself : 

"  How  wonderful  that  is  for  someone,  having  a 
band  meet  them  at  six-thirty.  They  (the  band) 
must  have  slept  with  their  instruments." 


216  THE  BIG  SHOW 

A  soldier  came  running  up  and  said,  "  Have  you 
seen  it?  "  Another  said,  "  Do  you  hear  it?  That's 
for  you,"  I  thought,  Poor  dears!  the  sight  of  Ho- 
boken  has  turned  their  war-weary  brains;  I  will 
humor  them.  So  I  ran  with  them  to  the  other  side 
of  the  ship,  and  there,  big  as  life,  was  the  father  of 
all  tugboats,  with  two  bands,  one  fore  and  one  aft, 
and  big  signs  all  over  it,  "  Welcome — Elsie  Janis!  " 
That  was  the  first  time  I  even  dreamed  that 
America  was  going  to  make  a  heroine  of  me.  I  was 
completely  knocked  out;  that  tug  was  a  Jack 
Dempsey  to  me.  Mother  came  up,  and  of  course 
we  cried.  Our  tears  seem  to  have  lost  their  route 
during  the  War,  because  when  we  are  sad,  we  smile, 
and  when  we  are  happy,  we  cry;  the  tear  ducks 
must  have  struck  the  wrong  pond. 

That  tug  with  "  Welcome !  "  on  it  was  the  be- 
ginning of  one  long  series  of  pleasant  surprises, 
for  I  am  quite  sincere  when  I  say  that  when  I  was 
working — or,  rather,  playing  for  the  boys  "over 
there,"  it  never  occurred  to  me  that  I  was  doing 
anything  very  splendid.  It  hasn't  soaked  through 
my  rather  hard  but  not  enlarged  head  yet.  If  I 
were  a  doughboy,  like  thousands  I've  seen,  who 
with  his  own  hands,  and  sometimes  with  empty 
hands,  had  done  in  one,  two,  or  more  Germans, 
then  I  could  expect  a  welcome,  especially  as  the 
only  reward  lots  of  them  got  was  their  own  pride, 
and  that  alone  had  to  make  up  for  the  loss  of  eyes, 


HOME  AGAIN!  217 

or  arms,  or  legs,  but  what  I  did  seemed  so  per- 
fectly natural  to  me,  and  to  Mother.  Perhaps  it 
was  because  we  had  had  a  taste  of  the  joy  of  cheer- 
ing and  being  with  British  soldiers  in  nineteen- 
fourteen  and  fifteen  that  made  it  seem  just  what 
we  had  been  longing  for,  only  even  more  gratifying, 
because  our  boys  were  so  far  from  home.  How- 
ever, the  fact  remains  that  I  have  been  and  am 
still  being  treated  like  a  heroine,  and  I  surely  do 
love  it. 

The  ship  docked,  and  then  started  the  big  battle 
for  landing  permits.  Mother  and  I  stood  there, 
wondering  if  we  would  make  Tarrytown  by  night. 
All  three  of  the  T.A.G.'s  were  sent  for  by  Uncle 
Sam  to  be  taken  off  extra  special  quick  and  avoid 
the  mob.  I  was  just  beginning  to  think  that  the 
Army  was  much  too  full  of  class  distinction,  when 
an  angelic  young  man  in  uniform  with  an  official- 
looking  band  on  his  arm  stepped  up  and  said : 

"  Miss  Janis,  if  you  and  your  mother  will  get 
all  your  things  together,  I  will  take  you  ashore  at 
once." 

Was  I  in  the  A.E.F.?  Vll  say  so.  We  filed  out, 
and  the  biggest  joy  of  all  was  that  we  left  the  three 
T.A.G.'s  still  talking  about  landing  "  at  once."  We 
even  went  through  the  customs  smiling  though 
thoroughly  examined.  They  asked  me  if  I  had 
anything  to  declare.     I  said: 

"  Yes — my  undying  devotion  to  the  A.E.F." 


218  THE  BIG  SHOW 

My  dear  friends  met  us;  you  may  know  they 
were  dear  if  they  were  there.  We  docked  at  seven- 
thirty.  Usually,  when  we  land  in  America,  the 
kindly  newspaper  men  ask  me  my  plans  for  the 
future — what  play  I  am  going  to  play  and  so  on — 
but  this  time  they  seemed  to  know  plays  were  not 
on  my  mind,  and  they  all  asked  me  about  my 
splendid  work  in  France.  Even  the  newspapers 
believed  I  was  a  heroine.  I  was  beginning  to  get 
weak  in  my  convictions.  Suppose  I  should  be — 
how  grand !  We  went  to  the  hotel  where  we  always 
descend  (as  we  say  in  France)  when  in  the  city. 
Everyone  there  welcomed  us.  Two  or  three  of  the 
waiters  told  me  of  how  they  had  just  missed  me 
in  France;  I  congratulated  them. 

After  lunch  we  started  for  Tarrytown  in  the  car. 
Though  all  America  is  home,  sweet  home,  Tarry- 
town-on-ye-Hudson  is  where  we  have  put  about  all 
of  ou^  hard-earned  dollars,  in  the  Manor  House, 
built  in  1683,  and  looking  its  full  age — at  least  its 
shape  does.  Our  house  being  in  upper  New  York, 
of  course  George  Washington  stayed  there.  I  really 
think  he  must  have  been  playing  one-night  stands 
from  the  number  of  places  he  stopped,  but  our  house 
really  was  on  his  route.  He  fell  in  love  with  Mary 
Phillipse  who  lived  there,  and  being  young  he  got 
very  rash  and  asked  her  to  marry  him.  He  was  only 
a  lieutenant,  and  she,  being  more  rash,  refused  him, 
poor  girl !    She  could  not  tell  from  his  love-making 


HOME  AGAIN!  219 

that  he  was  going  to  be  President.  Today  the  girls 
can  tell  from  a  handshake  how  much  income  tax  a 
man  pays.  However,  when  G.  W.  became  a  T.A.G. 
he  came  back  and  dispossessed  Mary  and  her  family 
and  had  her  husband  put  in  the  klink.  They  called 
it  a  dungeon  in  those  days — "  dungeon  or  klink,  it's 
all  the  same  think."  Anyway,  that's  what  G.  W. 
did.  There  I  go,  writing  another  book.  Stick  to 
your  own  history.  Miss  Heroine. 

When  we  reached  Ardsley,  which  is  a  little 
nearer  to  New  York  City  than  Tarrytown,  we  sud- 
denly heard  a  siren  blow.  For  a  moment  I  thought 
there  must  be  an  air  raid,  and  then  I  saw  them,  all 
the  boys  from  the  Tarrytown  Fire  Brigade  on  their 
big  hook  and  ladder,  which  goes  so  fast  and  thrills 
me  so  that  I  have  often  been  tempted  to  start  a 
fire  at  the  Manor  House  just  to  see  them  arrive. 
Even  when  I  saw  them,  I  was  looking  for  the  fire. 
They  had  come,  not  to  put  us  out,  but  to  escort  us 
in.  So  away  they  went  ahead  of  us,  blowing,  ring- 
ing, yelling,  and  our  old  Buick  trailing  along  like 
a  chaperon  at  the  Yale  Prom.  As  we  rode  down 
the  river  road,  usually  so  stately  and  justly  proud 
of  the  fact  that  really  great  men  of  history  had 
strolled  contentedly  beneath  its  huge  trees,  I  almost 
burst  with  pride.  People  rushed  out  and  waved 
flags.  I  learned  afterward  that  it  had  been  ar- 
ranged beforehand  that  the  siren  was  the  signal 
of  our  arrival. 


220  THE  BIG  SHOW 

We  drew  up  to  the  Manor  House,  and  there  we 
found  about  four  hundred  men,  women  and  children 
with  flags,  flowers  and  even  tears  to  welcome  us.  If 
I  were  capable  of  describing  my  feelings  on  paper,  I 
should  never  have  to  act  again;  I  could  go  in  for 
high-class  literature — but  I  can't.  ^lother  and  I 
simply  wilted.  Little  children  with  sweet  little 
faces  washed  to  a  shining  point  presented  us  with 
flowers.  Mothers  whose  boys  had  seen  me  in 
France  shook  my  hand.  The  siren  gave  an  angry 
scream,  just  to  remind  us  it  was  still  on  the 
job. 

I  turned  to  the  intrepid  one  who  was  running 
that  monster  and  said,  "  That's  some  fine  machine." 
He  said,  "  Come  for  a  ride." 

So  I  leaped  over  about  a  hundred  kids  on  to  the 
front  seat,  and  away  we  went,  all  through  the 
streets  of  sweet,  peaceful  old  Tarrytown.  Shades 
of  Washington  Irving  and  Ichabod  Crane,  but  we 
did  move!  That  was  the  first  time  I  ever  for  a 
moment  admitted  that  I  have  some  heroic  instincts. 
I've  played  under  shell-fire;  I've  worn  a  gas  mask 
and  danced ;  I've  crossed  the  ocean  seven  times  dur- 
ing the  War;  I've  faced  regiments  of  "cooties" 
without  a  tremor;  but  to  ride,  standing  bolt  up- 
right, fifty  miles  an  hour  on  a  hook  and  ladder, 
around  curves  that  were  made  for  baby  carriages, 
with  nothing  to  hold  on  to  but  my  reputation,  was 
brave,  and  I  admit  it.     I  don't  remember  much 


HOME  AGAIN!  221 

except  that  we  did  not  hit  anything  for  the  simple 
reason  that  everything  ran  like  mad. 

When  we  got  back  I  thought  my  brain  had 
given  way  under  the  exquisite  speed,  for  there  in 
my  front  yard  I  saw  khaki,  and  lots  of  it.  About 
fifty  of  our  boys  from  a  hospital  nearby  had  come 
to  say  hello.  They  were  boys  I  had  known  in 
France,  and  there  was  a  first-class  revival  meeting 
held  right  on  the  lawn  under  the  same  trees  where 
George  Washington  tried  to  make  Mary  Phillipse 
listen  to  reason.  Finally  I  thanked  them  all,  and 
they  faded  away  like  a  dream. 

Will  there  ever  be  such  times  again,  I  wonder? 
A  hundred  years  from  now,  what  will  be  happening 
under  those  wonderful,  wise  old  trees?  Well,  we 
can't  go  into  that,  and  I,  for  one,  don't  want  to.  I 
would  not  have  missed  living  in  our  days  for  a 
front-row  seat  in  Heaven. 

Home  again !  We  were  there.  I  pinched  myself 
into  the  realization  of  that  glorious  fact,  and  then 
I  sat  down  and  thought.  If  home  meant  to  me  as 
much  as  it  did,  with  lots  of  loving  and  charming 
friends  in  Europe,  what  must  it  mean  to  our  boys ! 
— some  with  wives  that  they  hardly  knew,  some 
with  little  babies  that  they  had  never  seen,  some 
with  mothers  that  they  had  never  dared  hope  to 
see  again?  I  had  no  husband — and  no  new  baby, 
naturally.  The  best  we  could  do  in  the  baby  line 
was  three  terribly  ugly  and  at  the  same  time  de- 


222  THE  BIG  SHOW 

licious  baby  canaries,  and  a  half  a  dozen  tiny  yel- 
low ducks,  whose  mother  is  a  hen,  and  who  looks 
at  them  as  if  to  say,  "  Where  do  they  get  those 
noses?  Their  father  was  so  nice-looking."  I  had 
my  dear  mother  with  me  every  minute.  In  fact,  we 
arranged  not  to  be  more  than  ten  yards  apart  dur- 
ing the  War,  so  that  if  a  shell  with  one  of  our  names 
on  it  came,  we  could  make  it  read — "  and  family." 
The  Siamese  Twins  were  estranged,  compared  to 
us.  Yet  I  was  so  glad  to  be  home  that  I  put  a 
record  on  the  Victor,  and  despite  the  fact  that  it 
was  so  hot  that  the  canaries  were  panting,  I  danced 
for  twenty  minutes  just  from  sheer  joy. 

I've  been  home  just  a  week  today,  and  so  much 
has  happened.  I've  been  in  town  four  times,  and 
each  time  something  wonderful  has  happened.  I've 
been  cheered  in  theaters,  I've  been  made  the  Com- 
manding Officer  of  the  94th  Flying  Squadron,  the 
greatest  bunch  of  flying  heroes  ever.  I  have  been 
presented  with  a  medal  by  General  O'Ryan  from 
the  New  York  boys  of  the  A.E.F.  I've  flooded  the 
stage  of  the  Globe  Theater,  where  it  was  presented 
to  me,  with  tears,  not  because  I  got  a  medal,  but 
because  engraved  on  it  were  the  words  "  In  loving 
and  grateful  appreciation."  The  loving  is  what 
got  me.  I  don't  want  anyone  to  thank  me,  but  I 
do  hope  they  mean  it  when  they  say  "  loving."  All 
this  has  happened,  and  I  am  still  baffled,  as  I  said 
through  my  tears  after  the  super  T.A.G.  pinned  the 


HOME  AGAIN!  223 

medal  on  me:  "It's  all  bull!  (more  tears).  Just 
why  they  should  give  me  a  medal  for  spending  the 
happiest  days  of  my  life  with  a  lot  of  regular  guys, 
I  don't  see! "  and  I  stumbled  off,  or  swam  off  thei 
stage,  sobbing. 

Well,  it's  all  over,  our  wonderful  war,  and  I  am 
wondering  what  the  future  holds  for  our  wonderful 
warriors?  I  find  New  York  very  little  blemished 
by  the  scourge  of  war,  and  certainly  not  chastened. 
Surely  our  returning  boys  whose  mothers,  wives 
and  sweethearts  dreaded  the  thought  of  their  boys 
going  to  that  wicked  city,  Paris,  will  all  agree  that 
Paris  is  a  sweet  girl  graduate  compared  to  New 
York,  at  least  in  the  theaters  and  roof  garden 
shows.  Goodness  knows,  I  am  not  narrow  except 
around  the  hips.  By  the  time  I  was  sixteen  I  had 
been  all  over  Paris.  Mother  had  taken  me  for  fear 
I  would  break  my  neck  crawling  out  of  some  win- 
dow to  go,  if  she  refused,  and  since  then  we  have 
been  going  some,  all  over  the  world.  My  ideas 
have  always  been  so  broad  that  most  of  my  friends 
wear  shock  absorbers.  This  time  New  York  has 
not  surprised  but  numbed  me.  In  Paris  I've  seen 
girls  without  a  "  shimmy,"  but  I  would  rather  see 
a  French  girl  without  one  than  see  an  American 
girl  "shaking  one."  I  suppose  this  will  all  blow 
over — not  the  "  shimmy,"  but  the  craze,  and  I  sin- 
cerely hope  so,  because  one  of  the  most  wonderful 
things  in  the  A.E.F.  was  the  absolute  and  undying 


224  THE  BIG  SHOW 

respect  the  American  soldiers  had  for  the  Ameri- 
can girl.  They  put  them  on  a  pedestal  that  grew 
and  grew  with  each  succeeding  day  the  boys  spent 
in  France.  The  more  he  saw  of  other  women,  the 
more  he  boosted  the  girl  at  home,  until  she  was 
almost  too  high  to  be  human.  Well,  I  want  her 
to  be  human,  but  I  won't  agree  that  you  can  "  shake 
the  shimmy  "  on  a  pedestal.  I  don't  say  all  the  nice 
girls  are  doing  it,  but  they  certainly  are  standing 
for  its  existence,  for  everywhere  I  go  I  see  it.  I 
hope  it  is  only  in  New  York,  because  nothing  goes 
very  far  there,  least  of  all  the  evening  dresses.  I 
never  saw  so  many  girls  with  so  few  clothes.  It's 
a  case  of 

A  little  tulle, 

A  yard  of  silk, 

A  lot  of  skin  as  white  as  milk. 

Is  it  wished  on? 

How  dares  she  breathe? 

A  little  cough, 

Good-evening,  Eve! 

To  get  back  to  what's  going  to  happen  to  the 
boys — not  that  the  above  has  anything  to  do  with 
it.  I  don't  see  any  of  them  about — I  long  for  the 
sight  of  them.  They  must  be  somewhere,  and  if  you 
have  one  in  your  home,  please,  oh  please,  don't  stop 
making  a  hero  of  him  just  because  he  is  not  dressed 
for  the  part  any  more.    Say  the  same  little  prayer 


^  HOME  AGAIN!  225 

yon  said  for  him  when  he  was  "  over  there."  I 
have  just  subscribed  five  hundred  dollars  a  year  to 
the  Aero  Club,  a  little  bit  toward  keeping  a  place 
where  our  boys  can  meet  and  meet  again.  Long 
after  the  War  is  over  and  the  world  has  forgotten 
that  they  were  heroes  they  will  be  able  to  talk  of 
the  days  when  they  were. 

I  approve  of  the  League  of  Nations.  I  think  it's 
a  great  idea  for  the  nations  all  to  get  together  and 
produce  the  next  war  like  one  big  syndicate.  But  if 
I  may  voice  a  poor,  feeble  little  opinion,  most  of 
the  men  liked  the  War,  and  most  men  will  always 
like  war,  and  as  long  as  there  are  women  to  fight 
for,  men  will  fight,  so  if  they  really  want  to  do  away 
with  war  they  must  exterminate  women.  We  must 
not  kill  the  spirit  that  won  the  War ;  we  must  not 
forget  that  for  every  dear  lad  who  was  lost  at  least 
ten  were  made  into  real  men.  I've  seen  them  in 
training  camps — little,  weazened,  stoop-shouldered 
boys  out  of  some  office,  and  I've  seen  the  same  outfit 
two  months  later,  with  a  light  in  their  eyes  and 
medals  on  their  chests.  I've  seen  a  man  in  England 
who  used  to  wear  pale  pink  shirts,  and  smell  so 
strong  of  Mary  Garden  perfume  that  I  suspected 
him  of  having  seen  her  in  "  Thais,"  go  to  war  and 
come  back  with  a  Victoria  Cross  for  rescuing  seven 
wounded  men  under  machine-gun  fire.  Oh,  war  had 
its  good  points!  The  slaughter  was  horrible — but 
after  all,  influenza  killed  six  millions ! 


226  THE  BIG  SHOW 

That's  that,  and  I  reallj'  ought  to  hire  a  hall  or 
start  another  war,  but  before  I  do  I  just  want  to 
tell  you  about  two  big  darkies  who  were  talking, 
one  day  after  the  Armistice.  One  was  wearing  a 
Croix  de  Guerre. 

His  friend  said,  "  What's  dat  you-all  got  on  you' 
chest?  " 

"Why,  dat's  a  cross  de  guerre." 

"  How  did  you  get  it?  " 

"  Oh,  I  just  went  out  and  captured  a  machine- 
gun,  and  killed  all  the  crew,  and  brought  the  gun 
back,  and  for  that  I  got  a  cross  de  guerre." 

"  Well,"  said  his  friend,  "  you  go  tell  another  one 
and  get  me  across  de  ocean." 

Now,  I  must  call  a  halt.  I  love  talking,  and  as  I 
can't  talk  to  everyone,  I  like  writing.  Just  a  few 
words  in  parting  to  the  women:  You  have  been 
wonderful — and  while  I  love  men,  I  also  love  the 
women  that  make  the  men  the  regular,  honest-to- 
goodness,  fine  fellows  they  are.  Will  the  ladies 
kindly  take  a  bow,  and  let's  agree,  the  War  is  dead. 
Long  live  the  War — or  at  least  the  men  who  helped 
win  it! 


IRISH  PHILOSOPHY 

You  may  feel  a  lot  of  sadness 

Without  really  being  sad, 
You  may  sense  a  touch  of  gladness 

Without  really  being  glad; 
You  may  even  feel  some  madness 

Without  being  truly  mad, 
But  if  you  feel  a  bit  of  badness — 

Then  look  out! 

For  a  little  bit  of  sadness 

Will  catch  a  fellow's  eye, 
And  a  little  bit  of  gladness 

Will  send  his  spirits  high; 
And  with  a  little  madness 

You  might  very  well  get  by, 
But  when  it  comes  to  badness — 

There's  a  doubt. 

For  there's  sadness  that  depresses, 
And  there's  madness  that  distresses, 
Also  gladness  that  expresses 

What  the  joy  of  life's  about. 
You  can  do  without  the  gladness, 
Or  the  sadness. 
Or  the  madness, 
But  that  little  bit  of  badness 
People  cannot  live  without. 


227 


DATE  DUE 

CAYLORD 

PRINTEDINU    S    A. 

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